Safe and Sound
by 69feltons
Summary: Draco and Hermione return amid fame and infamy for their final year at Hogwarts. When Draco's world is turned upside down by a secret family inheritance, he and Hermione must redefine the meaning of safe and sound. Rewriting
1. Kill Your Light

**Chapter One**

**Kill Your Light**

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><p><em>I remember it. Every word. Every syllable. <em>

_"He will rise from the union of bitter enemies whose hearts are bound . ...Sired from the song of one rarest man, carried by one whose birth is of fallow blood... and he will break the will of all who oppose him. He will lay ruin to the Earth he treads... and no man may prevent the evil he will inflict for no man shall know his approach is nigh. The future... may be spared... if the enemies die." _

_It seeps up through my memory like ink in water. I wonder if it could be true. After so much pain, so much loss, is there yet more? I must stop this from ever coming to pass. I must destroy any possibility of this new, great evil. _

_And I will. _

* * *

><p>Hermione Granger stretched out on the seat, her feet resting on Crookshanks' wicker cage, with<em> Hogwarts, a History<em> on her lap. As she turned the page, she couldn't help but feel elated at the prospect of returning to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It was really happening. She felt like singing, like jumping up and down as, for the hundredth time, a happy bubble expanded somewhere in the vicinity of her stomach. Automatically, she turned, smiling, to express her jubilation to Ron or Harry. But they weren't there. She was completely alone with her thoughts; the seat across from her in the compartment was utterly empty. Heaving a sigh, she stared out of the window, watching as fields and hillsides dotted with sheep rolled past in the failing evening light.

She told herself that she was excited to be going back to Hogwarts. Finishing her education was the most important thing to her right now. But it would have been nice not to do it alone. Well, that wasn't exactly fair. Luna, Ginny, and Neville would all returning to Hogwarts this year as well — Ginny and Luna to finish their seventh year, Neville to retake his.

Hermione snapped her book shut. It just wasn't the same. Ginny was Ron's sister, Harry's girlfriend. What did she and Hermione have in common, really? And Neville, however nice he was, she hadn't exactly shared a dormitory with him for six years. Luna. Luna was Luna. They'd never seen eye to eye.

So she was taking the train ride alone for the first time since she was 11 years old and helping poor, bumbling Neville search for his escaped toad. She smiled to herself, remembering wandering up and down the train with him, poking their heads into compartments and asking if anyone had seen Trenton. Or was it Trevor? What had ever become of that toad, anyway?

But reminiscing about her first ride aboard the Hogwarts Express only made her think of her boys again, her best friends. Ron's dirty nose and Harry's sellotaped glasses. Their enormous pile of sweets. Harry's snowy owl, Hedwig, asleep with her head under her wing.

Brow furrowed, she recalled with a little pang of sadness other owls as they'd flown in through the open window at the Burrow a month ago carrying their letters from Hogwarts. Mrs. Weasley had been absolutely beside herself when Ron announced he wouldn't be returning. When Harry told the room at large that he would be responding to the letter with an apologetic "no, thank you" as well, the argument that ensued shook the already dicey foundations of the Burrow. Hermione was on Mrs. Weasleys' side. If she was going back to Hogwarts, she wanted her best friends with her.

In the end, Ron and Harry had won out. It was, after all, their decision, and despite Mrs. Weasley's best efforts (and Hermione's as well, if it came to that), they _were_of age now.

As Ron had put it, "We defeated Voldemort, mum. Give us a little credit here."

Hermione agreed; they had the ability to make their own choices. They just weren't making the _right_ ones. Even now, after the weeks that had passed between that day and the present, she was still seething. She supposed she understood _why _they didn't want to come back, but it didn't mean she had to like it. No, Harry was at the Ministry in the midst of Auror training and Ron was doing who-knows-what with the fame they'd all received after the fall of Lord Voldemort.

She just couldn't help herself. She couldn't divert her attention from the empty places where her friends should be sitting. Desperate for some diversion, Hermione retrieved her letter from the bookbag next to her seat, handling it carefully. It had multiple crease lines from being folded and refolded and was threatening to simply fall apart altogether. She had read it so often that she'd practically memorized it, but actually seeing the words inked in emerald green on that heavy parchment gave her a little jolt of triumph every time:

_Headmaster: MINERVA MCGONAGALL_  
><em>(Order of Merlin, Second Class)<em>

_Dear Ms. Granger,_

_We are pleased to invite you back for your seventh year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Further, after careful consideration, you have been selected as Head Girl._

_Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment, as well as an outline of your responsibilities and new accommodations as Head Girl._

_Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

_Yours sincerely,_  
><em>Filius Flitwick<em>  
><em>(Deputy Headmaster)<em>

Page three of her letter gave a cursory description of her new quarters, which had been a thoughtful addition to the school during its reconstruction over the summer. She would have a room to herself with an accompanying bathroom, but she'd have to share the common room, which the paper made sound more like a parlor, and its adjoining kitchenette.

Her list of duties was predictable; she'd heard Percy talk about his responsibilities as Head Boy so often that she could practically rattle them off by heart anyway.

The letter had left out who was chosen as the Head Boy, although she could take an educated guess. He had to be smart. Really smart. And a good example for his fellow students. And Hermione felt sure McGonagall would use the appointment to make a statement, just as she had done by choosing Hermione. With less than half of Hogwarts' seventh year population — now technically eighth years — coming back, _he_was the only logical choice. But, she didn't want to think about him or about what misery lay ahead of her. And he would make her miserable, of that she was certain. She just wanted to revel in her accomplishment for the moment. She'd deal with the details later.

Hermione suddenly sat up straight, her book sliding off of her lap and onto the floor. Speaking of accomplishments, she needed to do her rounds of the train before they arrived at Hogwarts! It was already late! Another glance out the window told her the train would be beginning its deceleration any time now. She scooped up _Hogwarts, A History_, tossed it onto the seat beside Crookshanks' cage, straightened her robes and her Head Girl badge, then hurriedly quit the compartment. She didn't want people to think she wasn't taking this whole Head Girl thing seriously. She was Hermione Granger after all, and she wasn't one to shirk responsibilities.

* * *

><p>Draco readjusted his school robes outside of his friends' compartment, making sure they were smooth and straight, before sliding open the door. When he entered, they all watched him sidle over to sit between Pansy Parkinson and Theodore Nott.<p>

"So, how's it feel to be Head Boy, mate?" Theo asked, his gaze returning idly to the_ Daily Prophet _in his hands.

Draco just grumbled an empty threat by way of reply. He was in a foul mood as of late, and he had no reasonable explanation as to why. He supposed that it was due, in part, to that fact that he knew his mood was only going to get worse. The knowledge that very soon he'd be sharing his new living space with the self-righteous Gryffindor golden girl tended to have that effect. It was like his own personal version of hell.

As soon as Draco had gotten the letter informing him he'd been named Head Boy — not that there had been much choice — and read that he would have to share his rooms with the female counterpart, his mind immediately leapt to the worst case scenario: Granger.

So, of course, she was the only possible candidate.

Aside from how miserable it would make him, she was just... obvious. No one else suited McGonagall's purposes so perfectly. Granger was rule-obsessed, pushy, a heroine, and a prudy little know-it-all. Inflicting her company on Draco was, he guessed, just a bonus.

Thinking of Granger gave him a headache. In spite of his best efforts, he'd been doing that a lot recently. Thinking about Granger. He assumed it was because he'd watched his aunt torture her in his parlor only months ago. Draco shivered in his seat._ Don't think about that. Don't think about it._

"Are you alright, Draco?" Pansy purred in his ear. She clung to his arm, trying her best to look seductive. On Draco's other side, Theo gave a derisive little cough and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I'm fine," said Draco. "Now will you get off of me?"

"Yes, Pansy. Do you think you could possibly wait to drool all over Draco until I'm not around to witness it?" Theo said, his drawling voice and unconcerned tone in sharp contrast to the malice in his dark brown eyes.

"I'm _not _drooling!" Pansy glared across Draco at Theo, looking sour. Her mouth did that puckering thing that made her nose shrivel up. After a moment, she returned her attention to Draco. Her hand slid from his arm to his cheek, trying to turn his head toward her with all the long-fingered tenderness of a Grindylow clawing at its prey.

Draco grabbed her wrist and wrenched her hand away, throwing it roughly into her lap. "Enough," he said, resting his head on the cushion behind him to stare up at the luggage cart. He could feel his hands starting to shake in agitation, and he made an effort to steady them. His narrowed eyes darted over to look at Pansy, who was staring at him with her lip out, and thought that maybe he did see a little bead of drool at the corner of her mouth. He fixed his stare at the ornate "M" on his trunk and resisted the urge to get up and pace the tiny compartment, maybe hex something. Or someone. And he just might if Pansy didn't stop mooning over him like that.

Pansy soon gave up, however. She knew him too well to test his patience when he got like this. And they said women were untrainable.

Draco closed his eyes, wishing they would just get to Hogwarts already. There was no use prolonging the inevitable. He didn't have too long to be annoyed, though. Soon enough the train slowed, and he bolted out of his seat, rushing to an exit before Theo had even folded up his _Daily Prophet_.

* * *

><p>Hermione huffed in impatience. She just wanted the opening ceremony to be over with so she could go to her room, shower, and sleep even as she dreaded what was probably waiting for her when she got there. She gazed gloomily up and down the Gryffindor table, listening to the last of the Sorting but not affording it her usual straight-backed attention.<p>

"Hufflepuff," the Hat yelled, and Hermione jumped.

Next to her, Ginny giggled and said, "Hermione, pay attention!" as another first year donned the the Hat and it trilled, "Gryffindor!" Hermione clapped lightly in response, mostly to appease Ginny, who was giving her a shifty look.

After the names were called, McGonagall got to her feet and gave a short speech that Hermione flat-out ignored. In fact, the only thing she really focused on during the entire feast was the food, and even that was to avoid feeling the burn of the spotlight that seemed to be shining on her this year. All the Gryffindors were staring at her and whispering, trying to engage her in conversation. Hermione rebuffed all attempts to be social. She couldn't wait to be alone.

When supper was through, Hermione had the undesirable task of herding the first year Gryffindors to their tower. She tried not to feel too depressed, walking up the familiar path with Ginny and Neville and knowing she wasn't going inside. They arrived at the portrait of the Fat Lady, and she turned around and to give the students the password.

"All you need to do," she explained, gesturing to the Fat Lady, "is tell her the password. Mind you don't come too late, because she might not stick around for the stragglers after curfew."

"I should think not!" piped up the Fat Lady.

"See? So, make sure you get back here at a decent time. Also," she continued with a glance at Neville, "Don't write down our password. Anyone could get ahold of it, and we don't want just _anyone_ strolling into the Gryffindor common room, alright?" The first years nodded their understanding while Neville blushed scarlet. "Alright. The password for September is '_Novum Initium_'. Everyone got that?" More nodding. They were all so small, so brimming with excitement. Hermione turned away from the group and to the Fat Lady. "_Novum Initium_," she said, and the Fat Lady's portrait swung open to reveal the hole behind it. Hermione stepped out of the way and tried to smile as the avalanche of first years streamed into Gryffindor common room.

"We've got it from here, Hermione," said Ginny.

"We'll take good care of them," Neville added, pulling Hermione into a tight hug that she didn't really return. When they broke apart, Hermione backed up several paces and sort of waved awkwardly before heading off back the way she'd come toward her new dormitory.

"See you tomorrow!" Ginny called, but Hermione just waved over her shoulder in reply and kept going. The Heads' dorm was on the third floor, four floors away. Hermione couldn't decide if that was too close or too far, considering how conflicted she felt about actually arriving there. Anticipation and reluctance battled in her stomach, and by the time she came to a stop in front of the portrait concealing her new home, she was winded.

The beautiful girl smiling down at her reminded Hermione of Ariana Dumbledore, though her hair was long and dark brown, not blonde, and her cool hazel eyes lacked that vacant sweetness of Ariana's.

"Password?" the girl asked.

"_Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus_," Hermione responded. She thought the password was ridiculously easy, but they were allowed to change it later.

Hermione stepped through the newly-revealed threshold, and was completely overwhelmed by the beauty of the room. She stood just inside the doorway, taking in the Gryffindor red of the walls, the elaborate tapestries, fine wrought iron light fixtures. The couches, Hermione noticed with some disappointment, appeared to be for looks rather than comfort. Crafted from hard, gleaming leather in rich brown tones, they didn't exactly inspire images of long, cozy hours spent cuddled up with a good book. _Very Slytherin_, she thought ruefully.

Upon closer inspection, Hermione found Slytherin accents everywhere. It was subtle, but she recognized the green of the throw pillows, the huge carpet, and even the long, heavy curtains as the same deep jade every Slytherin wore. Based on her guess of Head Boy, she had expected the combination of red and green to scream Christmas, but they were just the right hue and vibrancy, the right balance. Each object, from the floor-to-ceiling bookcases to the sweeping candelabras, only added to the magnificence of the whole room.

Hermione let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding and sat down on a couch. They weren't as uncomfortable as they looked. She stretched out, relaxing for the first time that day. It felt wonderful to finally be alone.

"Enjoying yourself there, Granger?" said a voice from behind her.

She just closed her eyes slowly. She knew she was right. She was always right. Hadn't the Slytherin touches in their common room confirmed it?

"I was, when you weren't here to spoil it." Hermione stood up and turned around to face him. Malfoy looked about the same as the last time she'd seen him. Memories of him huddled with his family in the ruined Great Hall flickered across her mind's eye. He'd looked defeated, ragged from the war, but he was still thinner and paler now than he had been young man in front of her now was not the slump-shouldered wreck he had been at the end of the war, and something was disconcertingly strange about his eyes, rimmed in sleepless red and a sharp, slightly manic grey. His eyes gave him away. He was still fighting a war, though maybe an internal one.

* * *

><p>Draco had thought he was ready to face her, really ready to look her in the eyes and not hear her screams of agony or remember her retching, convulsing body writhing under his aunt's crooked wand. He was wrong.<p>

All he could see was the broken girl on the floor, limbs straining in pain. All he could hear was her blood-curtailing, soul-splitting screams. He couldn't deny it anymore. The shock of it, the scene playing out before his waking eyes, rooted him to the spot. He was frozen, wrapped up in the unbidden nightmare of Hermione's torture, as again and again waves of guilt and nausea crashed against his chest, knocking the breath from his lungs, flooding his veins until it was in every beat of his heart.

They stared each other down for what felt like forever before he couldn't take her silent accusations anymore. He had to get out of there. Now.

His body sprung into action of its own accord. Draco felt, rather than forced, his legs carry him up a flight of stairs, felt his hand twist a doorknob, felt himself collapse fully-clothed onto a bed with Slytherin green sheets. Hating her, that look in her eyes, Hating himself, hating the coward he was, he slipped into nightmares of the girl with the tortured brown eyes.**  
><strong>


	2. Come Morning Light

**Chapter Two**

**Come Morning Light**

* * *

><p><em>The child is crying again. I take him up into my arms and rock him back to sleep. It's far too early to be awake, my darling. Go back to sleep. <em>

_Soon. Very soon. You will be safe._

* * *

>Draco woke up suddenly in the dark. He was sweating profusely, his heart thudding painfully against his ribs. Something was wrong. Something was...<p>He just didn't know what. Gazing blindly around his room for a sign of danger, clutching his wand like the lifeline it was, he listened for the thing that had awoken him. Nothing. All was darkness and silence.<p>

Still. Draco got up from his bed, his back and neck aching from the strange contortions his nightmares always inflicted on his body. He inched slowly toward the thin line of light spilling across the hardwood floor, groping for the door. His hand touched wood, then metal. He turned the doorknob and swung the door inward to reveal the shadowy landing beyond.

Down the staircase, into the common room where the dying fire popped and crackled in its embers, Draco prowled with careful steps, straining his ears for some sound. _Anything._

Then he heard it. The thrashing, the screams, somewhere above him. He'd heard those awful screams before. Without even an instant of thought, he darted to the staircase on the other side of the room, the one he knew must lead to Granger's bedroom, and took the stairs three at a time. Wrenching the door open, he saw her, his shadow reaching across her bed, rolled up in the sheets like they were purposely binding her, thrashing and crying out as she fought some terrible nightmare.

Draco stood in the threshold, dumbstruck for a couple seconds. Then the scene focused and the reality of a girl in pain came flying back at him. He was at her side before he even knew what he was doing, his hands carefully untangling her from the snare of her sheets, trying to fend off her flailing limbs and calm her at the same time.

"Shhhh," Draco soothed, climbing into bed next to her and gathering her up into his arms. "Shhh, it's alright. You're safe now." He held her body still against him, her head lolling back and forth against his chest, her labored breathing cut with tortured screams accosting his ears, the goosebumps on her ice-cold skin clearly visible in the faint firelight. It was too much. Draco didn't know what to do. Finally, he resorted to what his mother had done for him when he was young; he reached around her trembling body and placed a hand gently on her forehead where beads of sweat and tears had rolled into her hair, drawing slow circles above her eyes, tracing the lines in her crinkled brow.

She did not wake, but her screaming died down. He stroked her wild hair, taking care not to tangle his fingers. Soon she was sighing, breathing deeply. It was only when she smiled in her sleep that he seemed to awaken from his trance.

Draco's eyes widened in horror and confusion. What was he _doing_? He had absolutely no explanation for his actions just now, nor did he think he ever would. With as much stealth as he could muster, he extricated himself from her bed and backed away from her sleeping form, hoping against hope that he could get out of there and back into his room and nobody would be any the wiser.

Once he was through the doorway, Draco silently shut her door then ran down the stairs, across the common room, and back up his own staircase into his room. He closed the door swiftly and leaned with his back against it as if to ward off evil. His heart hammered so hard he could hear its pounding in his ears, but this time it drummed with fear of a completely different kind: the fear he felt when he snapped out of it with Hermione in his arms.

He was going crazy. That was it. He was going completely bugnuts insane. That was the only _possible_ explanation.

Draco was so bewildered by what the_ fuck_ he had just done, but it would have to wait until morning. Questioning one's own sanity was best done after a good night's sleep. He pushed off from the door, made his way in the dark to his bed, kicked off his shoes, and rolled heavily into bed. This time, he got under the covers and pulled the sheets up over his face, cramming a pillow over his head for good measure.

He wanted to hide. He wanted it to have all been a dream. By the time morning came, he could almost convince himself that it was.

* * *

><p>Hermione opened her eyes the morning of the first day of classes completely at ease. She actually woke up smiling. If she was honest with herself, her smiles were pretty rare lately. It was actually kind of nice not to wake up grumble and sullen. But something inside her, something subconscious, didn't trust it. By the time she actually sat up in bed, the smile was gone, replaced by apprehension. She knew how silly it was to be afraid of her own happiness, but she couldn't help it. Something was off.<p>

She climbed out of her big, comfortable, warm bed and wobbled – still woozy from sleep – into her bathroom to enjoy a nice relaxing shower to start her morning.

While in the shower, Hermione tried to remember her dreams last night. Images of a nightmare, of watching Harry and Ron die at the hands of Voldemort, swam into focus as the scalding water washed over her skin. Yes, Harry and Ron had died again, then it had been her turn, as it was every night. Always the same. The last she remembered was Voldemort raising the Elder Wand and opening his lipless mouth to utter the the words of the killing curse... But then the dream had changed. She was in the Hogwarts Library, just browsing, then looking for something – no, _someone_... She tried, but she couldn't see their face. And they had whispered in echoes in her dream, "Shhh, it's alright. You're safe now. Shhh."

She stared down at her hand, watching the water pour into them, then fall onto the slick white tiles. Her skin was going pink and pruny with the heat of the water. With a sigh, she turned off the shower and stepped out onto the fluffy bathroom mat. She dried herself off, got dressed in her school robes, then descended the stairs into the common room, still thinking wistfully of the dream voice in the Library.

Hermione was completely unprepared for what was waiting below. Malfoy was just standing there, arms crossed over his chest, staring at her intently. At first, she was completely baffled by his presence, then she remembered they shared this space. Why was he just staring at her like that? What could he possibly want?

"Wha-?" she started, but he cut across her, bristling up at once.

"Shut your _fucking_ mouth!" he bellowed, still glaring offensively right into her eyes. She couldn't be sure, but she thought he was searching for something in them.

Hermione stared right back, her eyebrows raised, unwilling to be the first to back down. If he wanted to have a battle for dominance, two could play at that game. She wasn't going to let him push her around. After standing at the foot of the stairs in a silent stand-off with Malfoy across the room for what felt like forever, she rolled her eyes. That, apparently, was a mistake. It triggered him.

All at once, he was rushing towards her, backing her right up into the cold stone wall, his gaunt face twisted with anger. She trembled at the suddenness of his movements, shying away from him, making herself as small as she could. And now she was afraid, really afraid of the boy before her. He was absolutely terrifying, his chest heaving, his face all angles under taut greyish skin. He didn't back away, and he didn't speak. Slowly, methodically,like a predator trapping prey, he placed his hands on the wall at either side of her head. He was much, much too close.

"W-what do you think you're d-doing? Are you completely mad?" She shrieked, far past the point where she was able to control the pitch of voice. It wasn't necessarily the actions that threw her off because she knew him to be completely capable of this sort of barbarism. It was the suddenness of the attack. Completely unwarranted.

He raised his hand so fast it was a blur, and Hermione shrank back against the wall as far as she could, bracing herself for the blow, but he punched the wall two inches from her head. The dull, echoing reverberations made her head spin. She stared at his fist, at the knuckles oozing blood between stone and bone. He leaned in, hissing into her ear. "You stay the_ fuck_ away from me you dirty-blooded bitch!" Hermione's lip trembled, her hands shook against her chest, but she didn't move. She'd never seen him so mad in all her time at Hogwarts.

She could feel him rather than see him staring at her, hands still caging her against the wall for another long moment before he finally backed away. Jerkily, as if it caused him real pain, he backed away from her, his bloody hand flexing and unflexing.

Hermione didn't hesitate. She scooped up her bookbag and brushed past Malfoy, making a beeline for the portrait hole. Once she was a floor away, she collapsed against a wall, gulping great breaths of air and trying in vain to calm herself down, trying to force back awful memories her confrontation with Malfoy had recalled into sharp focus.

What was _wrong_ with him? What could she possibly have done to deserve that?

With a last deep sigh, Hermione picked herself up and headed for Potions.

* * *

><p><em>That was stupid. That was so stupid.<em>

Not that he cared. He _didn't_ care. Why should he? He didn't like Granger at all. Hated her even.

_She's a worthless, stupid, mudblooded bint._ Even as he thought it, he felt a pang of guilt. He'd always known that 'mudblood' was a forbidden word and he'd used it cavalierly, throwing it around without a care for who he hurt. But, ever since the fall of the Dark Lord, or, if he was being honest, ever since Granger was tortured before his eyes by his sadistic aunt, he knew he didn't feel as strongly about blood prejudice as he did before.

Though he would never, _ever_ tell anyone as long as he lived, it felt kind of good not to care about blood status as much. And aside from the fact that disregarding blood as a measure of worth meant that his own value seemed somehow lessened, it had made living with the Granger girl at least tolerable. Thankfully, she did still possess other traits well-worth loathing. She was and always would be a know-it-all, try-hard, self-righteous bitch.

Draco grabbed his bookbag off of the couch and dropped it immediately. The dull throbbing in his injured hand had turned suddenly sharp, like teeth biting into his flesh at the knuckles. He looked down to see blood dripping from his fingertips onto the shining leather, shocked at its redness, at the realness of it.

_Great_, he thought, pulling his wand from his pocket. It took him a long time to wade through his memory for the right charm – Hogwarts had never gotten around to teaching healing spells. Finally, it came to him, and as he silently passed his wand tip over the busted, ragged skin, he wondered that there could be such a flaw in his magical schooling. He syphoned the blood away, for good measure, not wanting to wipe it on his immaculate school robes.

When he was satisfied, Draco tried for his bookbag again. The pain was still there, especially when he closed his hand into a fist, but he ignored it and slung the heavy bag over his shoulder. He would probably be late for Potions as it was, but if he hurried, maybe no one would notice. Slughorn was no Snape, after all. Even if he didn't exactly like Draco, he wouldn't relish the idea of taking points from his own House. Pushing open the portrait, Draco started off down the corridor toward the dungeons, hoping that Granger would just ignore his existence for the rest of the day.


	3. Don't You Dare

**Chapter Three**

**Don't You Dare**

* * *

><p><em>I recall the day, the hour, the very sunlit minute with perfect clarity. She stood in the hall shadowed with echoes, and her voice rang out like barking, raspish and cruel. And we were alone. Only I heard it. Later, I questioned her about it, but she told me I must have been mistaken. I could not have heard such things. <em>

_But I did hear them. And I remembered. All these long years, I remembered. _

_I go to the child for comfort. Breathing deep and low and quiet, I can stand for hours and watch him sleep. Today it is not enough. I gather him up and hold him against me. He barely stirs, only grasps my finger in his tiny hand and sleeps on. _

_With the child asleep in my arms, I find some peace. I know it cannot last. I can feel the blood in me pounding, fear the beating of my heart will wake him. I count the beats, bidding my pulse to quiet. _

_One. Two. Three. Four. Five. "The future... may be spared... if the enemies die."_

* * *

><p>Looking as rotund as ever, Professor Slughorn stood at the head of the smoky Potions classroom, eyeing each student as if they could be the next trophy on his mantle. As he rotated slowly, the Ravenclaws in the front row shyed ever-so-slightly away from his enormous belly and Hermione knew they were wary of the way the buttons on his waistcoat strained to the breaking point.<p>

"Now then, now then, now then," he said, beaming fondly at them all, "Welcome back to yet another year of Potions! I have concocted a few potions which I think you all may find intriguing. Each of these particular brews may seem harmless to the incautious observer, but we practiced potioneers may discern something more sinister. If you would indulge me..." Slughorn turned toward the large work table to his left which was littered with phials and cauldrons, mortars and pestles, scales and leftover ingredients in an unorganized mess. He cleared these away with a flick of his wand, leaving three small pewter cauldrons for their inspection.

The class leaned in — Hermione actually stood up to get a better view. Each cauldron contained a different-coloured potion and all three bubbled harmlessly, though everyone now knew better than to trust their eyes.

Slughorn gestured dramatically toward the foaming silvery concoction, coming around the table to stand over the cauldron. The liquid within sparkled spectacularly even in the dim candlelight, almost as if it contained ground diamonds.

"This is the _Vybane Solution_," said Slughorn in a hush. "Though it does indeed give a dazzling display, the effects, should you consume even one teaspoon, include total blindness for the rest of your life. Even its vapors can blur the vision, you know." He stepped back a little, as if only just now realizing he was so close to the brew, though Hermione knew it was only for show. "Hmm, it's a pretty sight, isn't it? But it's sure to be the last thing you'll ever see, as there is no known antidote for _Vybane_."

Slughorn shuffled along the table, and Hermione took the opportunity in the brief silence to scribble a few notes on her parchment.

"This," — He gesticulated again, this time toward the bright fuchsia-coloured draught in the centre of the three — "is known as _Ladykiller_. So named for its pretty colour and intended use: death. Even so, one could even call its method of murder lady-like; it kills painlessly over several hours. A good swig of this, and no husband would stand a chance, eh?" Slughorn chuckled, then grew serious again, pointing his finger in the air, then down at the final potion.

But before he could begin his explanation, the door of the classroom swung open to reveal none other than Malfoy. Slughorn's finger hung comically in midair over the last potion, but no one was looking at him just then. All eyes were on Malfoy. Hermione's quill, which had been poised to take notes on the _Ladykiller_ poison, dripped ink onto her parchment as she stared daggers in Malfoy's direction.

Without so much as a word to Slughorn or anyone else, Malfoy strode forward, looking surly, and took a seat at a table next to Theodore Nott. He undid the clasp of his bookbag amid complete silence and extracted his Potions book, parchment, and a thin-feathered quill. Then, slowly, he looked up at Slughorn, who seemed to be deciding whether or not to shout at Malfoy for his lateness. Malfoy, however, appeared not to have noticed this inner struggle in Slughorn, and looked for all the world as if he was waiting politely for the professor to continue.

Hermione made a little noise of disgust at Malfoy's arrogance and returned her attention to her notes, which were now covered in splotches of ink.

_Damn! Damn damn damn! This is all Malfoy's fault_, she thought furiously, cleaning up her parchment with her wand. _Now he's ruining my notes, and Slughorn's not even going to take House points away?_ She glared over at him as Slughorn cleared his throat and made to start again, but if Malfoy noticed her at all, he ignored her.

"_Ahem_. Uh— And finally,_ King's Draft_," said Slughorn with one last glance at Malfoy. Hermione told herself to focus on the lesson, and could immediately see where _King's Draft_ had gotten its name. The thick purple liquid gurgling in the cauldron had the consistency of melted chocolate and smelled strongly of plums. "This potion, once drunk, will settle in the throat of the victim and asphyxiate them within minutes. Nothing you'd want to drink on a bet, to be sure." Professor Slughorn shook his head grimly, his many chins wobbling. His walrus mustache trembled as he wafted the fumes toward his nose, closing his eyes, seemingly enjoying the poison's enticing scent.

"Well, there you have it!" he said suddenly, snapping abruptly back to a businesslike tone. "With your table partners, I would like you to turn to page 76 of your books and complete the _Weedosoros Potion_. It should take you the rest of the period." Most of the class was still staring at the poisons. "What are you waiting for? Begin!"

Hermione turned at once to Neville, who was sitting beside her at their table with a faraway expression on his face.

"Wish I'd had that _King's Draft_ last year," he mused. "Would've come in handy with the Carrows."

Unsure of what to say to this pronouncement, Hermione sort of half-smiled and busied herself with turning to page 76 in _Portentous Potions: A Guide to Advanced Potion-Making_. "_Weedosoros Potion_," she read aloud, "A name derived, perhaps, from the moniker of its main ingredient, 'weed of sorrows'. This potion is similar to the _Drink of Despair_, excepting that its use is primarily to stimulate feelings of immense depression."

_Oh, perfect! That's exactly what I need right now_, thought Hermione bitterly. It just figured that Slughorn would set them this potion when she was in such a sour mood. She stole a glance over at Malfoy, who was leaning his head on his hand, watching Nott add something from a phial into their cauldron.

She turned her attention back to Neville, thinking that she probably shouldn't leave him alone with the _Weedosoros Potion_ for one second longer than was strictly necessary. After all, Potions was never his strong suit. Neville, however, was looking appalled. "'Immense depression'? Why would anyone ever want to brew that?"

"Says the guy who was just wishing for some_ King's Draft_," Hermione replied with a little grin.

Neville smiled, too. "Good point."

Still, Hermione felt that Slughorn's assignment was in bad form. After all, it was the very first class of term, and after everything this school had been through in the past year, more sadness was at the bottom of the list of things Hogwarts needed.

"Do you know what to do?" Neville asked. Hermione raised her eyebrows incredulously at him, and he laughed. "Yeah, right. How could I forget?" He mimed smacking himself in the forehead.

Gazing fixedly back down at the text before her, Hermione studied the ingredient list, memorizing it, and stood up. "I'm going to get silverweed, a weed of sorrows, and a crocodile heart. I think we have the rest of these ingredients in our kits. Why don't you start the water boiling?" 

* * *

><p>Thinking about that morning's incident, Draco watched out of the corner of his eye as Granger stood up from her table and practically stomped over to the ingredients cupboard. The pain in his hand, which, to be fair, had lessened considerably, still served as a reminder.<p>

Granger very carefully avoided looking in his direction at all, as if his part of the classroom had simply ceased to exist. Not that she usually looked at him during classes — or at all even — but it seemed she was being _extra_ cautious today.

Theo, who was sitting to Draco's right, cleared his throat to get his attention. Draco turned his head toward Theo, but went right on thinking about Granger and what had happened that morning. She was still angry at him. Of course. It was stupid of him to think for one second that she wouldn't be. But he hadn't _meant_ to attack her like that. He had just wanted to make absolutely sure that Granger hadn't remembered his late-night excursion into her bedroom.

_I'm a complete idiot_, he thought, closing his eyes, and images of the night before, of Granger tangled in sheets and screaming bloody murder, flickered ruthlessly inside his eyelids. His arms remembered her warmth, remembered the way they'd wrapped around her. His hands prickled with the memory of her soft hair beneath them. Or maybe that was just his knuckles reminding him what an arse he was.

"_Weedosoros_ seems to be some sort of poison that forces the drinker into a depressed state," Theo said, jarring Draco from his thoughts. "Interesting."

Draco didn't think so. He couldn't say he was even remotely interested in what the potion was or what it did. He just wanted the bell to ring. Accordingly, he did not listen to the long list of ingredients Theo spouted off from the book in his hands, and he didn't reply when Theo asked him if he should go ahead and get the rarer ingredients from the potions cabinet himself or did Draco want to pull his head out of his arse long enough to help brew this thing because time was running out and he, Theo, didn't want a 'T' on his permanent record.

"Alright. Fine. I'll just go get those then, shall I?" Theo snapped, slamming the book down on the table and getting to his feet.

"You do that," said Draco distractedly.

Draco returned to his contemplation of Granger, now cutting up ingredients with her silver knife with untoward force. He watched her obliquely, giving instructions to Longbottom at lightning speed, counting out finely-cut sections of some dark blue bloom, patiently restating her instructions to Longbottom, dropping a large, squashy root of something into their cauldron, instructing Longbottom again... That girl had the patience of a saint.

Meanwhile, his partner arrived back at their table, plunking their ingredients down on the scrubbed wood. When that failed to rouse him, Theo waved a hand in front of Draco's face. "Snap out of it, Draco," he said. Draco ignored him. Theo stood there for a moment, just glaring stiffly down at him, then heaved a long-suffering sigh and turned his attention to the potion they were supposed to be brewing together.

But it wasn't long before Theo had had enough. Draco knew it wasn't in his friend's nature to be ignored for long, and he was actually vaguely surprised that he'd held out as long as he did. That didn't mean he'd expected the sharp blow to the back of his head.

"Alright, I'm done with this. Turn around and help me, you bloody great prat." Theo grabbed Draco's smarting hand shoved a long, droopy plant with large, deep green leaves into it. Draco stared down at it, observing the way the leaves curled outwards on a long, flowerless stem. The whole thing gave the impression of a person hunched over in sadness. The weed of sorrows was, at least, aptly named.

"That's the weed of sorrows," Theo explained to him unnecessarily. He, like Granger had done, was dividing a chopped plant into little sections.

"I know," he said. What else could it have been?

"Fantastic," said Theo tonelessly. "Well, it is the main ingredient in this potion. Pick up your knife and slice it into thin, even pieces. Do you think you can you manage that?"

Draco rolled his eyes and took up the knife Theo offered him. "Obviously," he said. "Do you know who I am?"

"I was beginning to wonder." Theo allowed himself a very small smirk, and Draco couldn't help but reciprocate it. He flipped the knife twice in his good hand, then set to cutting the weed in front of him into paper-thin slivers.

The two Slytherins worked in a comfortable silence, handing each other scales or a knife when needed and occasionally stopping to slip ingredients into the cauldron and stir. When the potion reached the appropriate shade of mahogany, Draco took the chance to once again gaze over at Granger. What he saw infuriated him beyond anything he believed possible.

The Longbottom boy was holding Granger's hand in both of his, and she was looking towards their potion. But he was staring into her face, trying to catch her eye.

_What is that idiot doing?_ Draco thought, and, unconsciously, he picked up his silver knife from the table. _Get off of her! She clearly is disgusted by you! There is no way she'd ever be interested—_

But just then, Granger turned to Longbottom, smiled sweetly, and put her head on his shoulder. He rested his chin against the crown of her head.

It was repulsive. That the only way to describe it. Absolutely repulsive. And it had to stop.

It had to stop right. Fucking. Now.

Draco rose from his seat like a man possessed. As if from a long way off, he heard the scraping of metal on wood, heard Theo ask Draco just what the hell he was doing. Draco was too far gone to understand or care.

He was running — actually running — at the pair of Gryffindors across the room, his knife brandished wickedly in his hand. But before he could kill Longbottom, because that's what he later decided he'd been about to do, black spots popped into his vision. The last thing he saw was the hardwood floor of the Potions classroom rushing toward him. He heard rather then felt the _thud_, the impact of flesh on something cold and unyielding, before the blackness took over completely. 

* * *

><p>Hermione and Neville were working on their potion, which was three-quarters of the way finished, when he coughed awkwardly. She turned and looked up into his face. He looked like he had something on his mind.<p>

"What is it, Neville?" she said, trying her best not to sound impatient, but most of her mind was still on Malfoy and the rest of it was attempting for focus on their potion.

"I just wanted to say that I'm here for you. I know Harry and Ron are away, and after... Well..." He broke off, gazing sadly into her eyes. He looked as if he'd taken a big gulp of_ Weedosoros_ himself. "...After the war, I-I know you must hate being away from them, but if you ever want to talk, I'm here." He took her hand in both of his, and Hermione had to resist the urge to pull away.

She supposed she was seeing the post-war Neville, the one that had been tortured and hunted in this very castle. She felt a connection to him then, something she was sure only two war-weary people could ever feel. If she were going to talk to anyone about the awfulness of the last year, in that moment, staring into his eyes, it would have been him.

Hermione turned away, back to the potion they – well, mostly _she_ – was brewing. It was the right shade of chestnut now, and in the few minutes remaining of the lesson, it would be the perfect deep brown. But she didn't see the potion just then. She couldn't see much of anything through the tears in her eyes.

Harry and Ron, especially Ron, were sore spots for her. She'd rather not talk about them. She knew Neville's intentions were good; he really was the sweetest guy anyone could ever hope for. So, instead of giving any reply, she leaned her head against his shoulder, grateful for the stability he provided, however fleeting.

And fleeting it certainly was. Suddenly, the distinct sounds of a chair screeching against the ground, of the rasp of knife on wood, of footsteps, startled her out of her shining moment of peace. Hermione looked around just in time to see Draco Malfoy plow headlong into floor.**  
><strong>


	4. Sun Going Down

**Chapter Four**

**Here Alone**

* * *

><p><em>I stare down at my non-hands, then focus on where my feet should be but aren't. It's a singular feeling, being invisible. Awake in an empty house of bones. <em>

_The high grass atop the hill where I stand folds over in the storm breeze, and I think it will rain soon. The wind streams through my hair, unseen. I am the wind, watchful and invisible, the only kind of chaos you can count on. _

_And I am waiting, worrying about the child. Have I left him too long? Is he crying? Be still, my darling. Just a little longer. _

_Then he comes, the man with the pinched eyes. He strides, cloak swishing in my breeze, his hair catching in his eyelashes and at the corners of his mouth. I know he is upset. His balled up fists give him away. He walks, unspeaking, past where I stand. I am safe. No one can see me. I am the wind at his back. _

_That is enough. To know. I know now. The way ahead is clear._

_Slowly, the dread builds in my stomach. It is an awful thing, to feel the secrets rise like bile into the mouth of truth. It burns the throat. It waters the eyes. _

_I go, leaving only a tiny pop behind. I imagine he hears it over the wind. I imagine he looks around for the source of the sound. But I am not there. _

_I am everywhere. I am the wind._

* * *

><p>Draco clawed his way into semi-consciousness some time later, feeling like he'd been hit by a battering ram. Slowly, he opened his eyes, then blinked rapidly and squeezed them shut again. Wherever he was, it was bright, too bright for his eyes to handle. They felt too big for their sockets, too large for his eyelids to close around them properly. Everything hurt. He tried to bring a hand to his forehead, but it seemed to move at double speed and he ended up smacking himself in the face, the sound of flesh hitting sweaty flesh travelling much too slowly to his ears. Now it felt stuck there, his hand glued to his face by perspiration, and he was afraid to move again because every twitch of his muscles made him feel nauseous.<p>

He tried to concentrate on not sinking into whatever it was he lay on. A bed? It was soft, comfortable even. But this simple realization of the object beneath him brought on another bout of nausea, and Draco retched in spite of himself. Again and again, like waves crashing on the shore, pulling back into the ocean, then sweeping up again, reaching further, his mind sloshed in and out of consciousness as if caught in the eddy of some powerful, dream-like tide.

Then he was fire, burning up from some cavernous deep, higher and higher, until with a deafening roar he was awake — fully and completely awake — and his body lurched forward and his eyes shot open to stare transfixed into the blazing sunset through great mullioned windows.

A woman appeared in front of him, blocking his view of the setting sun, temporarily blinding him in her shadow. She was mouthing something, her hands reaching out to him... He blinked, the dull ringing in his ears subsiding slowly until he understood that she was speaking to him, saying something... something...

"Mr. Malfoy!" Her voice seemed to rip through his eardrums. "Draco-"

He clapped his hands over his ears, his face screwed up against her thunderous words, but he could still hear her.

"Mr. Malfoy, please! Lie back down. Lie down now." Her voice rang like echoes in a tunnel, and her hands cut into his shoulders like shards of glass, pressing him back, stabbing into him. He shrank away from her, this evil thing determined to cause him pain. "Lie down, Mr. Malfoy. Please!"

With a great heave of effort, Draco detached himself from his panic. He forced himself to see this bright world full of hateful monsters for what it was, what it _must_ be. The earth seemed to turn over, spinning wildly, then with a jerk, reality came into sharp focus. The bright world was the Hospital Wing. The bellowing monster was Madam Pomfrey. And she was trying to coax him back down onto the bed.

Like a child awakening from nightmares, Draco did as he was told. He lay back, flopping onto pillows, and Madam Pomfrey pulling the sheets up over his body again.

"Be still," she said soothingly. "Just lie still. It will pass."

But now Draco had a new problem. Hadn't he been in Potions only a moment ago? How did he get here?

Draco struggled to remember. He recalled reluctantly brewing the _Weedosoros Potion _with Theo, then spotting Granger across the room leaning against that _boy, _Longbottom. And he'd been absolutely furious at that. _Why?_

Even now, he wanted to tear his hair out at the thought of it, but he made himself be still and quiet like Madam Pomfrey had said. He was having a very strange day. Week. _Year_.

Lying there, not daring to move a muscle as the nurse bustled around him, Draco thought about what he'd actually _done_ in response to Granger and Longbottom. He watched the scene unfold as if from above, saw himself get up from his table brandishing a knife, sprinting forward. But that was the last thing he remembered before fainting.

He'd actually _fainted. _He'd never fainted before in his life. It was a sign of weakness, and he'd just done it in front of a whole class full of people.

"Drink this," said Madam Pomfrey, jaring him from his recollections. He stared up at her from his pillow. She held a goblet of some steaming liquid in one hand and her wand in the other. "Sit up and drink this now."

"But you just told me to—"

"Mr. Malfoy, sit up and drink this potion yourself or I will _make_ you sit up and drink it," she snapped. Draco eyed the potion, then her wand.

"What is it?"

"It's a potion for the nerves, Mr. Malfoy. Now which is it going to be?"

Draco sat up again, and Madam Pomfrey shoved the goblet into his hand. It should have hurt, grasping the cup with his still-sore hand, and he must have looked surprised because Madam Pomfrey added, "Oh, I repaired your hand as well. Cracked knuckles." She narrowed her eyes at him shrewdly, but didn't ask what he'd done to sustain such an injury. "Drink up!"

Draco drank the whole potion down to the dregs and felt a wonderful sense of calm wash over him. The nurse nodded, then walked away. Draco watched her go, feeling that he could sleep for another few days now. All he wanted was to lie back on the bed and drift off into a lazy stupor.

Madam Pomfrey returned with a tray. "Now eat." She plunked the tray, which had a sandwich and some chips on a plate, onto his lap. A glass of pumpkin juice joined the plate on the tray.

"Not hungry," said Draco airly. He felt so relaxed he wasn't even sure he could chew at the moment.

"That potion is meant to be taken with food. Eat." She left again. Draco ate. He was sure he'd never enjoyed a ham sandwich more in his life. Just as he washed down the last bite with a final swig of pumpkin juice, there was a noise from the hall outside the Hospital Wing like the sound of many hurried footsteps.

Draco watched unconcernedly as the doors to the infirmary burst open and Madam Pomfrey rushed past him to meet the new arrivals. If he hadn't already taken what he suspected was a _Calming Draught_, Draco might have been surprised, shocked even, by the little group of people striding purposefully toward him. As it was, he could barely work up the effort necessary to blink properly.

His father, who was looking uncharacteristically concerned, pulled his mother along beside him, holding her hand in a vice-like grip. They walked toward him between the uniform rows of hospital beds, followed closely by two men clad in dark, businesslike wizard's robes who could only be the Auror guard assigned to his parents by the Ministry after the war. Draco couldn't say that he minded the Auror detail, even without the potion turning his brain to warm pudding. Their presence meant that his parents had so far avoided a trial. Bringing up the rear was Headmistress McGonagall, stiff and stony-faced.

Madam Pomfrey was the first to speak. She stood in front of Draco's bed as if shielding him from view and addressed McGonagall. "Headmistress! What is the meaning of this!"

McGonagall's shrewd eyes swept over Draco, tray still in his lap and what he imagined was a vacant expression on his face, before replying. "Mr. Malfoy's family is here to pay him a visit."

"This boy is ill! He's exhausted!" said Madam Pomfrey, gesturing back at Draco as everyone else came to a stop a short distance away from his bedside. "He needs rest, not company. Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, I really must ask you to—"

But his mother swept past her and sat down next to him, reaching for his hand with trembling fingers. He let her take it, knowing she must be worried and knowing why, but unable to bring himself to care. "How are you feeling, Draco?"

"Really! Mrs. Malfoy, I must insist—"

This time it was his father that that cut across Madam Pomfrey. "Our son is in the Hospital Wing, and we are here to see him. Now, take this," he said, grabbing the tray from Draco's lap and practically shoving it into Madam Pomfrey's hands, "and kindly give us some privacy."

Madam Pomfrey looked affronted. She plopped the tray down on the bed next to Draco's and put her hands on her hips. "He may be your son, but he's _my_ patient, and _I_ say that he is not fit for visitors at this time."

"Then we will have him moved to St. Mungo's." Draco felt a little well of fear bubble up from somewhere in the pit of his stomach. Suddenly he wasn't feeling so relaxed anymore. Leave Hogwarts? Why? He felt fine now. Gazing blearily into his mother's anguished face, he realized there must be something they weren't telling him.

"You will do no such thing," said McGonagall, moving forward.

Draco's father turned slowly around to face her. "Oh, _won't we_?"

"No, you most certainly will not. Draco is not to leave this school unless I give my consent, Mr. Malfoy. Or don't you recall the terms to which you and your wife agreed when you petitioned for his return to Hogwarts?"

"I remember perfectly well—"

"Then you will also recall," continued McGonagall, her spectacles flashing in the last rays of sunlight, "that it is by my express permission that you are here to visit him in the first place, and that with one word to these Aurors I could have you thrown out of my school before you can say 'Death Eater'?"

"Yes, I realize that," said his father with a bit more deference. "I apologize if I was indelicate," — Madam Pomfrey humphed — "but I must speak with my son immediately, in private and without interruption. He is indeed very sick, and I require the opportunity to explain to him the reasons why."

"If you have some explanation for your son's behavior, I'm sure we'd all like to hear it," said McGonagall.

_Yes. Yes, we certainly would_, thought Draco. The fear in his belly was at a roaring boil now, fighting off the effects of the potion. His body remained calm, his jaw slightly slacken and his eyes unfocused, but inside him, a battle raged. That sandwich was starting not to feel like such a good idea after all.

"This is a family affair, Headmistress."

"What did you do to him?" asked his mother abruptly, staring worriedly into Draco's still-placid face. "He looks drunk, Lucius."

"It's just a _Calming Draft_," supplied Madam Pomfrey. "For his nerves, you know. You should have heard what Professor Slughorn had to say about him during his Potions lesson this morning. I wouldn't have believed it except that this is the same boy who-"

"Thank you, Poppy," interrupted McGonagall with a warning look, but Draco thought he knew the end of Madam Pomfrey's sentence.

"_...the same boy who tried to kill Dumbledore two years ago."_ Or maybe, "..._the same boy who fought against this school during the Battle of Hogwarts." _

He was very glad McGonagall had stopped her. It was one thing to know his crimes and another thing entirely to have other people throw them in his face.

Now Draco was definitely listing toward nervous. This wasn't right. Something wasn't right. His parents _couldn't_ be here. They were on house arrest back at the Manor until their trial. As far as he knew, nothing would have been able to change the Ministry's mind about letting his parents actually _leave_ their Manor for any reason. But here they were.

What did his parents know that he didn't? What were they so keen to speak to him about _immediately _and in _private_?

His mother, who was still holding Draco's limp hand in hers, broke the silence. "Draco, sweetheart, tell us how you are feeling?" The question felt like it held more than what it was at face value, especially since she'd already asked it once before, but Draco once again didn't have the chance to respond.

His father put a hand in his mother's shoulder and said, "Not yet, Narcissa. Wait until they're gone."

Draco looked up at his father in annoyance. Why wasn't he allowed to even answer a simple question? He felt _fine_ now, thank you.

And anyway, why was his father so bent on secrecy? What was he even _doing_ here? It was already strange for his mother to be present, but his father must have been very convincing for the Aurors to let _him_ out. Although Draco respected and loved his father very much, he couldn't deny his very prominent part in the war. And in Draco's role in the war, if he came to think of it.

"Well," began McGonagall, "I suppose we can let them have a few minutes together." She looked around at the two Aurors, who glanced at each other.

"We can't leave you here alone, you know that," said the Ministry official on the left, his voice thick with an Irish brogue.

His father glared at the Auror, clearly not in a mood for incompetence. "We do not wish to flee. Where exactly is it that you think that would we go with you guarding the one exit to this room? And you will know, of course, that it is impossible to disapparate within Hogwarts' walls," he said with as much condescension as he could muster. He turned his cold gaze back to McGonagall. "Headmistress, this is a matter of some urgency."

The first Auror didn't seem to appreciate his father's appeal to McGonagall. He opened his mouth to offer some retort, but the second Auror, who had remained silent, nudged his partner with his elbow, inclining his head towards the doors they had came through. Draco watched them, almost amused, as they had a silent argument.

Finally, the first gave in. "Alright, we'll give you a couple minutes. But no more!"

Draco's father looked relieved. "Thank you."

But McGonagall, at least, wasn't through making demands. She nodded tersely to the Aurors, then turned to look his father full in the face. "If Madam Pomfrey stays."

"Headmistress—"

"She is the school nurse, Mr. Malfoy, as well you know. She should stay and hear about this mysterious illness." His father looked as if he was going to argue this point, but McGonagall lifted a hand to stop him. "Those are my terms, Mr. Malfoy. Take them or leave them."

"We'll take them," said his mother before his father could reply.

"Very well. Come on then," McGonagall said, and she ushered the two Aurors out through the double doors of the Hospital Wing. As soon as the doors shut, his father sat down next to the dinner tray on the bed next to Draco's and put his head in his hands.

Watching his father, Draco became more and more afraid with each passing second. He tried to sift through all reasons that his parents could have come to Hogwarts to talk with him, searching for something positive, something that had nothing to do with him being in the Hospital Wing. He came up with absolutely nothing that was even a little plausible. He gulped. The _Calming Draught_ had worn off completely now, it seemed. He felt every bit as panicky as he had done when he'd first woken up.

Finally, his father looked up at him, resting his chin on the tips of his fingers. "Son, your mother and I need to tell you... We've kept from you."

A secret? Great. His parents have a _secret _to tell him. Wonderful.

Narcissa squeezed her son's hand, he had momentarily forgotten she was even there. He looked back into his mother's face and saw a mix of emotions — concern, pain, sadness, even pity.

"Have you noticed anything... different about yourself lately?" she asked softly. She gazed into his eyes and it was obvious to him that she was trying desperately to remove all emotion from her voice.

The truth was, he had. He had seen _lots _of changes, both physically and emotionally. He'd been practically freaking out for weeks, maybe even months. He was quick to anger — even more so than usual — obsessive, prone to acts of violence, powerless to control his emotions. But, the last thing he wanted to do was discuss any those with with his father in the room, so he resorted to what he did best: lie.

"No, I haven't a clue what you're talking about."

His mother and father exchanged a look .

"This is something we should have told you long before now," he father said, "and we apologize for it. But we're here to tell you now. We had hoped... but our hopes are immaterial. The truth is..."

Draco's heart hammered uncomfortably against his ribs. The suspense was killing him. _The truth is...?_

"The Malfoy family has been plagued by a very rare, very secret... condition... for many generations." His father looked at his mother again, and she nodded her encouragement.

Draco found himself thinking, _just spit it out!_ Though, of course, he couldn't even imagine speaking to his father like that.

"Draco," said his father with resolve, his eyes hardening as they locked with Draco's. "You are a male Veela."

_Veela? _That was a sort of magical creature, wasn't it?

His father continued almost apologetically. "You're not full-blooded. Your great-great-grandfather was the last of the male Veelas in Great Britain. But... you are a Part-Veela."

Draco reeled, unbelieving, as the silence lengthened uncomfortably. Nearby, Madam Pomfrey gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. They all ignored her. His parents seemed to be giving him time to digest this news. A Part-Veela. _Him_?

He remembered there had been some Veelas at the Quidditch World Cup a few years ago. They had been mascots for the Bulgarian National team. Exceptionally beautiful, enchanting thousands of wizards in the stadium stand with their dancing, but then... He recalled the catastrophe toward the end of the match with the Irish National team's mascots, the Leprechauns. The Veela had sprouted scaly wings and shot fireballs from their hands. Their faces had gone gaunt and grey and pointed.

He didn't believe it. This was a joke. Draco's eyes darted to his mother, but one look at her confirmed everything that his father had told him.

Unable to keep quiet a moment longer, and with disbelief and panic clawing away at his insides, Draco finally voiced the only question that came to mind. "_What_?"

"Male Veelas are extremely rare," said his father much too calmly, in Draco's opinion. "It's one of the reasons that the Veela race is dying out. But it does happen. It's been in the Malfoy line for several generations and it's time you knew about it, because it's affecting you now." His father heaved a great sigh, as if steeling himself to say something truly awful. "You are in the Longing, Draco. It's a period in a Veela's development where they must take a mate... or die. "

"_Die_?"

The word echoed strangely around the still Hospital Wing. Outside, in the Hogwarts grounds, shadows gathered as if to listen. _Die_. _I could die._

"Of heartbreak," explained his father unhelpfully.

It was apparent that his parents and Madam Pomfrey were waiting for him to speak. They all seemed to hold their breath, bracing for some torrent of questions Draco couldn't even begin to formulate. He was so angry he thought he might set the bed on fire, so flabbergasted that he wished he could just wake up from this strange dream. His parents just stared at him, and their silence was infuriating.

"What do you want me to say?" Draco snapped, the malice in his voice surprising even himself.

"Well—"

But Draco cut across his father. "Why didn't you tell me any of this before now? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I—"

"No. Stop. I don't want to hear your excuses." Draco held up his hand and turned to Madam Pomfrey, addressing her rather than look at his parents. "Does this explain my symptoms?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"So I am really a... a Part-Veela?"

"It would seem to... fit."

"Right," he said, glowering ahead of him, his glare fixed on the hospital bed across the aisle from his. He couldn't look at any of them. His parents, liars. Madam Pomfrey's piteous expression. He wanted them all gone.

His father tried again, his voice tense with emotion. "Son—"

"Just... just get out," Draco whispered tremulously. "Just leave me alone."

"Dra—" began his mother, but he interrupted her, too, far beyond caring what either of them thought, about their feelings, their worry over him. It was too late for apologies. There was no adequate explanation for hiding his true heritage from him for seventeen years.

"GET OUT!" Draco heard himself shout, but he felt apart from it, apart from everything. The room was buzzing. As if on cue, the candles in their sconces sprang into life, startling them all.

"Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, perhaps it would be better if you left now," said Madam Pomfrey softly, and his mother and father rounded on her.

"But—"

"I do have one question." They all looked back at Draco. His mother's eyes were wide with grief. "How long?"

"Excuse me?" said his father.

"How long do I have?"

"Before what?"

"Before I die."

"Oh darling!" his mother cried, and she threw herself on him, kissing his cheeks and clinging to him.

Draco pushed her off of him onto the bed. "Well?" he asked again, posing his question to his father.

"Without a mate, and in the state you're in... a month? Maybe two. There's no way to know for sure."

"Thank you. You can go now."

"Draco, just listen to your father—"

"Mother, I said _go_." Draco turned over in the bed away from them to face Madam Pomfrey's office. _Just get out_, he thought. _Go now, before I start shouting again. _It pained him to see the sorrow on his mother's face, to feel his father's eyes baring down on him. He knew they wanted to say more. But he didn't want to hear it.

His mother sniffled a little, wiping her tears on the sleeve of her robes. Then, with a little nod, she got to her feet and went to his father, slipping her hand into his. "We should let him rest, Lucius. This is a lot for him to take in."

They tried to speak to him, to say goodbye. After all, they wouldn't see him again until the Winter Holidays, but he just closed his eyes and refused to reply. Madam Pomfrey showed them out.


	5. Here Alone

**Chapter Five**

**Here Alone**

* * *

><p><em>I hold the child again before I know I must leave him. It must be tonight while the moon is still new and there is no one but the stars to see me. I've planned it all so carefully. I made sure.<em>

_These moments are so precious, not to be wasted. Every second parted from him is a year of terror. After so much sadness and fear, it is hard to let him go. But I must. _

_Thinking of the work yet to be done, I sing to him as I cradle him in my arms, swaying him slowly._

_Five little lovebirds dancing 'cross the floor,  
><em>_One felt the killing curse and then there were four._

_Four little lovebirds climbing up a tree,  
><em>_One fell and broke her neck and then there were three._

_Three little lovebirds wondering what to do,  
><em>_One heard a banshee's cry, then there were two._

_Two little lovebirds looking for some fun.  
><em>_One will get carved to pieces, that'll leave one._

_One little lovebird sitting all alone,  
><em>_I will kill her just for you and then come home._

_He is asleep now. The lullaby has never yet failed me. I tuck him into his blankets. Soon, my darling. I leave him sleeping to strike another from my song. It won't be long now, and you'll be safe, my darling._

* * *

><p>Hermione sat in the best chair by the fire in the Gryffindor common room, feeling completely at a loss as to why she had agreed to come in the first place. Why had she allowed Neville to persuade her to join him and Ginny here? He must have known how awkward it was going to be. Aside from the many prying faces of first and second years, all sitting around her, hanging on her every word, there was just the conversation itself. They wanted her to talk about Malfoy.<p>

News had travelled fast during dinner about Malfoy's exploits in the seventh year Potions class that morning. Now anyone who had been present had the ear of all not fortunate enough to witness Malfoy take a nosedive into a hardwood floor. It was all anyone wanted to hear. Except Hermione. She would have rather talked about Quidditch fouls than Malfoy, and that was saying something, because Hermione knew next to nothing about Quidditch.

"...and he just ran at you?" a third year girl was asking Neville breathlessly.

Beside Hermione, Neville nodded eagerly. "Just started sprinting toward us like a rampaging Hippogriff. He had a knife, the bloody great git. Merlin knows what he thought he was going to do with that," Neville said to his eager audience. "I had my wand out in about a second but then, _splat_. He just collapsed."

"He fainted?" squealed a little blonde girl, though they all knew the story well enough by now to know that, yes, Malfoy had fainted. Yes, right there on the Potions classroom floor. Yes, it was hilarious.

But Hermione was well through laughing at the joke, if she'd ever found it funny to begin with. If she was honest with herself, Hermione had to admit that the sight of him rampaging toward her had been terrifying, but not nearly as terrifying as seeing him crumple into a heap like that. He could have been dead! And then what?

The last thing she wanted to see was another dead body.

"Then old Slughorn conjured a stretcher and got him on it. Then he left, headed for the Hospital Wing," finished Neville.

"And he's there now!" the first girl said excitedly. "No one saw him at dinner, did they?"

Hermione had nearly reached her limit. How could anyone, let alone an entire common room full of people, be so jubilant over someone having to go to the Hospital Wing? She wanted to snap at them, to shout that it wasn't right. Even if she didn't like Malfoy, she wasn't keen on gleefully celebrating his... his what? Panic attack? Had he finally gone insane?

Well, if his behavior in their common room that morning was any indication, he had definitely gone stark raving mad. She hadn't told anyone about Malfoy cornering her earlier. It was too strange to talk about. He was usually hell bent on ignoring her. Now he was pounding his fists into walls right next to her head and running at her with knives.

Maybe he was trying to kill her. Hermione put the thought from her head. No one — not even Malfoy — was that stupid. And besides, what was to be gained by killing her now, after the downfall of Lord Voldemort and with his parents awaiting trial for their many colourful crimes?

And besides, he hadn't hurt her this morning. He'd... threatened her. No, questioned her. What _had_ he done? Then later, in Potions, he hadn't even been looking at her when he'd come thundering across the room, knife flashing. His eyes had been leveled on Neville.

"Hermione," said Ginny, and Hermione looked at the redhead tussling idly with Crookshanks on the rug by the fire. She got the impression Ginny had said her name several times before finally getting her attention. "Nice of you to join us," she said with a wry grin.

"Huh?" said Hermione. "Did you ask me a question?"

"I said, 'what's it like living with the biggest prat in the universe?'"

"Oh, you know. It's not much fun. But then, classes have only just started."

"Yeah, and he'll have plenty of time to make you miserable after he gets back from the infirmary," said Ginny, rolling her eyes. "Honestly, I don't know how you can live with him. He's such a... such a..."

"Wanker?" supplied Neville. Everyone laughed again.

"Yeah! He is, though! And you have to share a common room with him! Ugh, I think I'd drop out."

Hermione nodded vaguely.

"Harry says it's an outrage they even let him come back. He should be in Azkaban or something, not at Hogwarts ruining your life."

"He's not ruining my life," replied Hermione, and everyone looked at her in surprise. She was obviously supposed to agree with Ginny. Hermione tried to backtrack. "I just mean, nothing Malfoy does is worth getting worked up over, you know? He's just some stupid boy."

Ginny eyed her, and Hermione knew she was waiting for the punchline. When none came, Ginny went on, tossing a balled up bit of parchment across the room for Crookshanks to chase. "Well I hope for your sake that he drops the macho act. He must know he doesn't have any friends at Hogwarts anymore. Even most of the Slytherins won't go near him."

"Yeah," said Hermione. She picked at a loose thread in her robes, wishing that she could just go. But Ginny, it appeared, was not done with her yet.

"Did he do anything weird this morning? Or last night, maybe? He couldn't have just gone nutters out of the blue."

"No," Hermione lied, her stomach squirming.

"Well, watch your back, ok, Hermione? I don't want to hear he's snuck into your room and cursed you in the night," said Neville.

"I will," she said, flashing a quick smile at Neville, who beamed back at her.

* * *

><p>Draco had no intention of staying in the Hospital Wing and resting. Not after everything he'd heard tonight. By the look of the sky, it was well past dinner now. The Library would be closing soon, and he needed to get in there.<p>

After a short fight with Madam Pomfrey, wherein he assured her that he was fine and she assured him that he most certainly was not, Draco had managed to get across that he needed to learn about his true heritage for himself. Finally, she discharged him from the hospital and he practically ran to his destination.

He burst through the Library doors only a few minutes before closing, earning him a very sharp, cold look from Madam Pince. He ignored her and went rushing through the rows and rows of books, headed for the 'V's. He needed to find information about his... condition.

Scanning the shelves in the limited time he had, he quickly found the only four books with "Veela" in the title, which were _Veela: Their Ties to Muggle Slavic Folklore; A Comprehensive Comparison: the Veela and the Siren; North American Veela of the 18th Century;_ and_ Characteristics of the Veela._

He walked back through the narrow halls between bookshelves with the intent to check out the books he'd picked up when he was stopped in his tracks by the sudden appearance of a fellow Slytherin, a sixth year girl he recognized as Astoria Greengrass. He hadn't seen anyone in the Library when he entered, but, to be fair, he hadn't really been paying strict attention to his surroundings. As she approached, he tried to hide the covers of the books in his arms as much as possible.

"Malfoy?" Astoria asked. She was in front of him now and it was absolutely impossible for her not to know who he was, but he went along with it anyway, figuring it was the quickest way to get out of the situation.

"Hi, uh— Greengrass, right?" Draco tried not to look shifty as he jostled the books around in his arms, still making every effort to keep their titles hidden from view.

She let out a short laugh. "You can call me Astoria. Do you want some help there?"

"No!" Draco said quickly, taking a few shuffling steps back from her. He knew how fishy that must have seemed to Astoria, who now watched him quizzically from just under a sign which read:

_Non-Human Beings: M_

_Manticore, Merpeople, Mooncalves, etc_

With a huge effort given the situation, Draco regained some semblance of his countenance. He had to get away from Astoria before she started asking questions, like what he was doing in the magical creatures section of the Library minutes before closing after spending all day in the Hospital Wing. He was sure that last bit was common knowledge around the school now.

"Are you sure? Those look heavy. I could just—" and she produced her wand from the sleeve of her robes, presumably to levitate his books for him, but Draco was already side-stepping her, practically sneaking around her as if she couldn't plainly see him. This was stupid. What was he doing stalking around this girl, making her even more suspicious than she had any right to be?

He forced his shoulders back, despite the weight of the books tugging uncomfortably on his robes, their bindings cutting into his skin through the fabric, and started off toward Madam Pince's desk. Just check out the books and leave. She couldn't very well follow him all the way back to the Heads' common room.

But he could hear her following him, and a moment later she was talking alongside him. "What are you doing in here so late?" she asked, tucking her wand back into her robes.

"Checking out some books."

She laughed. It was a tinkly, musical laugh, well-rehearsed to be pleasing to the ear. "It's the first day of classes, what books could you possibly need—"

"What are _you_ doing in here so late?"

They had reached the check-out desk. As Madam Pince glowered down her pointed nose at them, Astoria looked away from Draco and shook her head. "Same," she said, though he could see she wasn't even carrying a quill, let alone a Library book.

With that, she walked to the Library doors and left without a backward glance. _What an odd girl_, he thought, watching her go. The doors thudded shut behind her retreating back.

When he turned distractedly back to the large desk before him, Draco had to suppress the urge to cringe. Madam Pince was so close to his face it was startling.

"Veela?" she queried dubiously, as if she didn't believe for a second that any boy would ever want to read about such a thing. Draco had encountered this attitude from the Librarian before.

"It appears so," he replied, trying to make his voice light and casual. With much skeptical squinting and a few terse "tsk"s, Madam Pince turned each book over in her bony, claw-like hands and made scratchy little notes on a enormous ledger, a slightly manic gleam in her eye.

"Sign and date each book on the inside cover. Make no further notations in the text or so help me..." She trailed off, seemingly unable to put into words the fervency of her threats, but Draco knew very well that Madam Pince would strangle the life out of him if he harmed one single page in her precious books.

He nodded his understanding, hoping he looked more solemn than he felt. "I wouldn't dream of it, Madam Pince."

"Mmm." She handed the books over one by one, and he left for his room as quickly as possible.

He didn't have far to go with his heavy stack of books in tow; the Library and the Heads' dormitory were both on the third floor. The the portrait of the beautiful girl was waiting for him when he arrived, brushing her fingers through her soft dark hair and watching him inquisitively. She did not speak, but her hazel eyes regarded him with bright interest.

"_Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus._"

The girl scrunched up her nose. "No."

"No?" said Draco, re-adjusting his stack of books. "Whaddya mean, 'no'?"

"No," she said again quite clearly. "The password has changed."

"Well, what is it?"

She gazed airly down at him, unspeaking. Draco knew what that meant.

"Listen, just let me in. Granger didn't tell me the new password."

"No."

Draco sputtered, trying in vain to find some curse or insult which did justice to this predicament, but the heavy books were extremely distracting. He felt like his arms were about to fall off. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Guess," she offered, now clearly enjoying his consternation.

Guess. _Guess_? How was he supposed to guess? Granger could have changed the password to _anything_! Merlin, what a nasty, spiteful, good-for-nothing, "know-it-all bitch," he said aloud, only half-aware he'd done it.

The girl in the portrait shook her head.

"No, right?" She smiled. "Let's see," he said, shifting the books again to give himself time to think, "how about 'Weasley'? 'Potter'? 'School'? 'Hogwarts'? 'Infuriating bint?'" But the girl just shook her head.

Several minutes later, Draco was panting from the effort of holding up his pile of books, listing ever more unlikely passwords between gritted teeth. Finally, the girl in the portrait tossed her hair back and held up a hand for him to stop.

"There's a hint," she said calmly.

"Why didn't you say so in the first place?"

But the girl didn't reply, she just gazed down at him intently and began to recite.

"_If you would wish to enter here,_

_speak the given name quite clear_

_of he who brandished Sword in hand_

_and bravely taught those of his land._"

Draco stared at her. "That's it? That's the hint?" She nodded again. Draco thought. _Speak the given name of some bloke who bravely taught with a sword in his hand..._ "_Gryffindor_! _Godric Gryffindor_! Is that right?"

The portrait swung open to reveal the passageway into the Heads' common room.

"Hang on," said Draco to the back of the painting. He stomped into the common room, tossed his books onto a couch, listened briefly to see if Granger was inside — he determined that she wasn't — then stomped right back out into the corridor. The portrait swung closed behind him, and there was the girl again, regarding him with that same polite interest. "I want to change the password," he said maliciously. Granger was going to pay.

"I'm listening," said the portrait girl.

"_Salazar Slytherin_," Draco said at once.

"Very imaginative. Would you like to leave a hint?"

"No. Wait, yes. The hint is: '_fuck you, Granger_'!" Draco laughed. Even with everything else that had happened today, making Granger's life miserable always made him feel better.

The girl sighed. "Very well."

Draco strolled back through the portrait hole feeling very pleased with himself, but sobered up again once he saw the pile of books waiting for him on the couch. Scooping them up, he headed for the couch in front of the fireplace instead. There, before the merrily crackling fire, he spread them out on the coffee table, then sat down on the couch and stared at each title in turn, trying to decide where to start.

After a solid minute of just staring at the gold-embossed word "Veela" on the oldest volume, _Characteristics of the Veela_, he decided that was as good a choice as any. Before he had even opened it to the first chapter, however, Draco decided that he should definitely be taking notes. So, with a sigh, he set the book back down on the table and padded up the stairs into his room to look for some parchment and a spare quill.

Once there, Draco found that this was not the simple task he'd predicted. He searched around his room, on the dressers, the night stand, and his four poster bed, but he didn't find a single slip of parchment, nor could he spot any quills lying about. Only when he stubbed his toe on the trunk at the foot of his bed did remember that he yet to unpack it. Keeling beside and tapping his wand against the latches, Draco swung open its heavy lid and found a quill, ink, and parchment easily.

Writing instruments in hand, he made his way back to the couch and re-opened _Characteristics of the Veela_.

_**Table of Contents**_

_Chapter One: A Brief History ... Page 3_

_Chapter Two: Birth, the Naissance of the Veela ... Page 77_

_Chapter Three: Adolescence, a Time of Volatility and Vicissitude ... Page 109_

_Chapter Four: Mating, the Longing and the True Kiss ... Page 213_

_Chapter Five: Powers, a Dance of Flame and Flattery ... Page 325_

_Chapter Six: Death, the Mortal Dire and the Final Farewell ... Page 430_

Flipping to the third page, Draco began to read.

_**Chapter One: A Brief History**_

_Shrouded in mystery through the ages, Veela__have come to be known by wizards as a race of semi-human, semi-magical hominids reminiscent of the Sirens of Muggle Greek mythology._

_While little is known about their biology, the Veela at rest appear to be young, beautiful, and human. It was long thought that the Veela were a strictly female race, though shrewd observation of Veela culture has revealed a very rare, very protected line of males, carefully fostered down three ancient lineages, two of which are, as of the writing of this book, practically extinct. For our purposes, however, a discussion of only the female Veela must suffice, as what we know of the Veela stems solely from our understanding of the females' behavior and appearance and any attempt to gain further insight into male Veela would surely result in a singed buttocks._

_The appearance of the female Veela, and especially their dance, are magically seductive to almost all male beings, which causes them to perform strange actions in order to get nearer to them. Hearing a Veela's voice, whether speaking or singing, can also cause one to incessantly brag in order to impress them, such as claiming they have water-skied across the Atlantic on the backs of two sea serpents._

_Veela are thought to have their own type of magic which does not require a wand. When Veela are angry, however, they transform, their faces turn into cruel-beaked bird heads and long scaly wings burst from their shoulders, and they can launch balls of fire from their hands. These traits are lessened as the potency of the Veela blood is diluted by that of a humans', mainly those of wizarding heritage. This dilution occurs each time a Veela or Part-Veela mates with a human, and may continue until the Veela blood is "bred out" somewhere between the sixth and ninth generation dilution. The Mate of a Veela (see Chapter Four) is the most important thing..._

Draco looked up from the book and pinched the bridge of his nose. Even with his vested interest in Veelas now, _Characteristics of the Veela _was painfully boring. He forced himself to jot down the main points so far, but decided to skip ahead to _Chapter Four: Mating, the Longing and the True Kiss_. That was, after all, the most pertinent to his current predicament. Because he could _die_ unless he figured out something quick.

_**Chapter Four: Mating, the Longing and the True Kiss**_

_The Veela are a unique species in many aspects, though most notably by their dependency on a Mate, which may be Veela, Part-Veela, or entirely human. Every Veela has one person in the world considered their "Soul-Mate", and, as described in Chapter Three, cunning Veela begin searching at a young age to find that Mate._

_Once a Veela is around the age of 17 to 25, they enter a period of their life called the "Longing", so named for a Veela's intense, burning pining for its Mate. The Longing may present itself as deepest depression, and may include such symptoms as irritation, instability, and impatience. Veela in the Longing are prone to extreme mood swings, lilting from a propensity to display irascible dramatics to an intense desire to ponder dewdrops and billywigs' wings._

Draco paused to take notes and yawned in spite of himself, thinking that at least he wasn't pondering billywig wings. Then, heaving a great sigh, he plunged yet again into reading.

_A Veela or Part-Veela mother knows the Longing very well, having entered it herself, and will, without fail, encourage the young Veela or Part-Veela to find its Mate, its one true match, or face the Mortal Dire (see Chapter Six). If the young Veela or Part-Veela does not find its Mate during the Longing, the duration of which may last months or years, and bestow upon the Mate the True Kiss, the Veela's soul will dim to nothing, causing death within a matter of months._

_The above-mentioned True Kiss is both an elusive and precious thing. A Veela may search many months and suffer disappointment many times before happening upon the correct recipient of the True Kiss. They are, however, helped along by strong, almost magnetic feelings toward their intended Mate, which may present as both repellence or desire, even before the True Kiss is bestowed. The real test is in the venom of a Veela, which will pass to their Mate and bind the two together eternally, though it is harmless to others._

_This is known with absolute certainty: after the True Kiss, if the Veela dies, its Mate will die, and if the Mate dies, the Veela will die. Even in a pairing of a Part-Veela and its Mate, one cannot bear to live without the other. A Veela or Part-Veela, therefore, will love, cherish, and protect its Mate at all costs (these feelings may be prominent even before the True Kiss)._

He couldn't believe what he was reading. And his parents had kept this from him. This seemed a _little _important. Every term he read sounded so absolute, so point-of-no-return. His eyes darted across the pages, searching out each damning word. The Soul-Mate. The True Kiss. The Mortal Dire. The Longing. _Venom_?

Draco looked down blearily and found his quill trailing an inky line from the final full stop of his notes to the bottom of his parchment.

He was a Veela. He needed to find a Mate before _his soul dimmed to nothing_ and he _died._ Bloody effing terrific.

* * *

><p>It was around ten o'clock when Hermione finally escaped the Gryffindor common room. She just wanted to get back to her bedroom and do that worksheet for Charms that Professor Flitwick had set them before passing out on her huge, gloriously comfortable bed.<p>

And it would be nice if, when she got there, Malfoy had magically disappeared. Though, if she was honest with herself, Hermione was extremely curious about his behavior today, both before classes and at Potions.

So, as Hermione started her journey down the moving staircase toward the third floor, it was with a strange mixture of exhaustion, apprehension, and a desire to finagle the truth out of Malfoy by any means necessary. Yes, when she got to their common room, she was going to get some answers.

She arrived at the portrait the very pretty girl that hid the entrance to the Heads' dormitory before she knew it, and with a confident smile, she said, "_Godric_."

The portrait girl smiled back, but the painting remained fixed to the wall. She shook her head, still smiling mutely, and gazed at Hermione with her large hazel eyes.

"What? Did he change it?" The portrait didn't answer, but Hermione had barely to think before she decided on what the new password must be. "_Salazar Slytherin_," she said. Glimpsing what might have been rolling eyes, Hermione watched the painting swing open in triumph. She wasn't the brightest witch of her age for nothing!

Hermione wanted to do homework, and she wanted to sleep. Now, if possible. And she knew that she should let it go, but she just couldn't. She grabbed the frame and pulled it shut again. The girl in the painting didn't look at all surprised to see her again. "Really? That was it? _Salazar Slytherin_?"

The portrait girl nodded by way of reply.

"Change the password to '_Muggleborn_'."

"Would you like to include a hint?"

"No way. Let him sit out here and think about it for awhile."

"Very well." The painting creaked outward again and Hermione stepped inside, feeling pretty pleased with herself, but stopped abruptly. Her eyes had found the couch. There was a figure lying there, slumped rather awkwardly against the patent leather arm. She could see its back moving up and down slowly in the deep rhythm of sleep

She tip-toed forward as quietly as she could. Seeing Malfoy asleep in front of her was disconcerting, to say the least. But, here he was. Cluttering the table were pieces of parchment covered in his scrawling handwriting and several dusty old books. He had a quill in his hand which was resting softly on his stomach, bleeding ink into the green and silver of his loosened tie.

Furrowing her brow, she rounded the side of the couch and picked up one of the books off of the table. It was titled _North American Veela of the 18th Century. _Why would Malfoy possibly need this book? She eyed the parchment – notes, it looked like – and picked it up, carefully not to let it bend lest the sound of crinkling paper wake Malfoy. Thinking this was probably a really, _really_ bad idea, she read a few lines about Mates, a few characteristics, underlined many times on bold ink, stood out.

_Irritation_

_Insatiability_

_Impatience_

_Mood swings_

_Irrational_

_No Billywigs/Dewdrops_

She looked back at him, still sleeping soundly, and tilted her head in confusion. _Why?_ Why would he have these notes, these books? He certainly couldn't be – But no. It was preposterous. Wasn't it?

Was it? Well aside from that last one, all of those sounded like synonyms for "Malfoy". But, _Malfoy? A Veela?_ There certainly wasn't any other explanation for why he would need all this. As far as she knew, he hadn't gone to another class after his incident in Potions class that morning, so it wasn't an assignment. And, fainting. That could also be explained.

_Could it be true? _she thought, gazing in a stupor between Malfoy and the words on the paper, noticing a little annotation near the bottom:

_After True Kiss, if Veela dies — Mate dies._

Well, if that was the case, and it certainly seemed to be, Malfoy was in the Longing, which Hermione knew meant he had a finite amount of time to find his Mate. Which meant... _Malfoy could be dead before the end of the school year_. As much as Hermione despised the slimy git, did she really want him to die?

_No_, she thought. If it was down between death or inflicting Malfoy on some poor Mate, she'd choose the latter. And if – and that was a big "_if_" – this was all true, she wanted to help. Hermione didn't think she could handle anyone else she knew dying. Even if it was Malfoy.


	6. Hurt You Now

**Chapter Six**

**Hurt You Now**

_I leave the house by the front door. Nothing to hide. No shame in these crimson hands. I roll my fingers into my palms. Blood dries so quickly._

_No one will suspect. I was thorough. I took my time._

_But next time, the last time, will not be like this. I will be kinder, for her sake._

_I enter an alleyway and vanish into its shadows, reappearing in the living room where pictures of them gaze smilingly down at me. I smile back, feel the blood on my face tugging at my skin. I promise I will make him safe. I will make a world for him where there are no shadows._

* * *

><p>The first thing Draco was fully aware of the next morning was the spine-crushing ache in his back. It was so god-awful that he didn't even want to move, but he sat up anyway, blearily wiping the sleep from his eyes, craning his neck from side to side in an attempt to alleviate the pain. Then, very slowly, the room around him came into focus. He was still on the couch in the common room, books and parchment scattered around on the table before him. His quill, still in his hand, was covered in dried ink.<p>

Worry clenched his stomach. He'd fallen asleep. And _she_hadn't come back while he was awake. She could have seen. He gazed at all the objects scattered around, trying to remember if they were exactly where he'd left them. Nothing seemed to have moved, but he couldn't remember...

A door suddenly opened overhead, and Draco jerked his head up to see Granger descending the staircase to the common room. She looked extremely awkward, like she was trying to avoid actually catching his eye. She reached the bottom of the stairs, her backpack slung over her shoulders, her posture protective.

He thought back to the morning before. He'd attacked her. Because he was afraid she would remember his completely inappropriate intrusion into her room on that first night when she'd been screaming and thrashing and he'd held her. But she hadn't remembered. She'd mercifully slept through the whole thing. So of course his behavior had been out of the blue, totally unwarranted.

_Well, it was those things anyway_, he thought grimly. He couldn't blame her for being apprehensive now.

Draco didn't move, and she didn't leave. They just stayed like that, each waiting for the other to speak, to give some explanation, as the seconds dragged by.

Finally, Granger turned to face him. She seemed to be steeling herself to say something. She sighed, opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again. "I didn't... What I mean to say is that I came back and... You were asleep on the couch so I... but I didn't..."

"Spit it out, Granger," said Draco, sitting up properly now and rubbing the back of his neck.

"I-saw-all-of-the-books-and-notes-and-things-you-were-reading," she said very fast, looking around shiftily.

"You _what_?" Draco stood up, and though there was a couch and several yards of floor between them, Granger took several steps back.

"It was there in plain view!" she shot back, gesturing at the books on the table.

"That doesn't mean you can just _butt in_. This is private!" He grabbed the sheet of parchment with his notes on and brandished it at her. Draco forced himself not to think about what a hypocrite he was being, shouting her down for reading his notes when he'd been soothing away her nightmares without her knowledge or permission only the night before. Though, admittedly, it was easy to forget all about that with her scrunched up, angry face glaring bossily at him.

"If it's so private," she said, "maybe take it to your bedroom next time instead of leaving it out in the common room for anyone to see! And you can't just _sleep_out here, alright? The last thing I want to see is your drooling ferret face snoring up the common room!"

"How about you show a little fucking respect!"

"For what?" she scoffed. "_You_?"

"Of all the interfering–"

"Oh, spare me, Malfoy," she spat, dropping her bookbag to her side. "I can't believe you're still putting on this act after–"

"After what? After _what_, Granger? You think just because you saw some bloody books you know everything about my life? You think you get to have an _opinion_on it?"

"After everything you did yesterday! And now you're pretending like _I'm _the crazy one for being curious!"

He rounded the side of the couch, but she didn't flinch this time, didn't shy away from him as he approached her. "You don't _get_to be curious about me, Granger."

"It's not homework, is it?" she said, standing her ground even as her voice softened. "I know it's not. You were only in Potions yesterday. So what is it, Malfoy? Why are you reading up on–"

"Don't!" he shouted, but she didn't stop.

"What is going on with you? Is _this _it?" She snatched the parchment out of his hand. Her eyes scanned the page for a moment, then she read, "'_Explains everything_**'**. Your words not mine, Malfoy. So, does it? Does _this_**" – **she held up his notes – "explain everything?"

"I don't know what you're on about, you nosy little bint, but–"

"Stop lying! Just stop it! For once, just tell _someone _the tru–"

"The truth?" And now Draco was leaning in, invading her personal space, almost whispering in her ear. "Oh, you want to be careful asking for the truth, little girl. You might just get it."

Granger seemed to lose some of her nerve. She tried to take a shuffling step back from him, but he grabbed her wrist and held her there. Her eyes widened, and together they watched him pluck the parchment full of his notes from her hand. Then he released her, wiping the hand that had touched her on his robes with a sneer.

"Even if I did know what you were talking about – and I don't," Draco said, his voice still icy calm and scathing, "you're the last person I'd talk to about it."

"Fine," she said with nearly as much venom. "I don't know what I was thinking." She picked up her bag. "I can't believe I was going to offer you my help."

"I don't need _your _help!" he yelled. "I don't need _any _help!"

"Yeah, because that worked out so well for you in sixth year," said Granger, and Draco fought the urge to hex her, but he didn't have to for long. Before he could come up with some insult to fling at her, Granger was exiting through the portrait hole.

Draco stuffed the parchment into his robes, noticing the large ink spot on this tie for the first time. _Brilliant_, he thought. Another promising start to the day. Draco hurriedly gathered up the books and parchment from the table before the fire, then headed up to his bedroom to get changed before classes began.

* * *

><p>Hermione glared into her cereal, thinking that she didn't <em>want to be <em>thinking about Malfoy. But she was. Again. She'd thought about him from the Heads' dormitory all the way down to the Great Hall for breakfast where she met Neville and Ginny at the Gryffindor table. Even then, as they renewed their conversation about Malfoy from the night before, Hermione thought about his behavior that morning in the dormitory, which she declined to tell her friends. They didn't need any more ammo against him.

She had to admit, he'd done a pretty good job of making a spectacle of himself their first day back. People would be talking about that Potions class for years. But that wasn't what worried her most. It was this Veela business. Was he or wasn't he?

If he _wasn't _why hadn't he just told her flat out? His avoidance of the question was practically a confession. And if he _was_... well, if he was, that was a whole other set of problems Hermione was unsure she could actually face.

_Draco Malfoy, not a pureblood. A part-human, even. Draco Malfoy, needing a Mate to survive the year. He could die without one._

Hermione took a bite of cereal. Malfoy was right. How was she supposed to help him? The idea of finding him a Mate was abhorrent. And he didn't exactly _deserve _her help, not after the way he'd been treating her. Then again, his mood had taken a turn from haughty to hopeless to hysterical. Maybe it was all this Veela business.

It was all pretty sad, actually. His parents had obviously compensated for their secret by playing the holier-than-thou, blood purist card all these years. And now their son was paying the price for their lie. Not that she felt sorry for him exactly, but that didn't mean she wanted him dead. She didn't want anyone else to die over this blood purity nonsense.

But it was more than that. The Longing was nothing to be trifled with, and Malfoy was obviously in over his head. If she could help him, if he would let her, maybe they could finally let the past be the past. That was definitely worth the risk. That is, _if _they could find him a Mate in time.

* * *

><p>Draco traipsed up to Double D.A.D.A. classes in broody silence. Even though Theo walked beside him, Draco couldn't think of anything he wanted to say, and there was definitely nothing he wanted to hear. Theo had been pretty quiet about Draco's going ballistic the day before, but Draco was just waiting for the subject to finally come up. Theo couldn't pretend to stay disinterested forever.<p>

As they walked, Draco thought about his morning encounter with his nosy, know-it-all bushy-haired roommate. He could have handled that better. But, she _knew. _And she had just sprung that on him. How was he _supposed _to react? If he had just pretended to be oblivious as to what she was on about, everything could have been avoided. As it was, he'd lost his temper again and now there was no doubt in his mind that he'd only reinforced her suspicions. And if he knew Granger at all, there would be no getting rid of her now.

The nearer Draco got to the entrance to Defence Against the Dark Arts, the more his head ached and his palms sweated. This was his first D.A.D.A. class since the war and, to be honest, the subject made him a tad uncomfortable. _More than a tad, _he thought miserably.

As hard as he tried to ignore them, he wasn't deaf to the things people said about his return to Hogwarts. People had come to the consensus that he really was just some evil ex-Death Eater. He wanted to believe what he told himself: that he didn't care about what other people thought of him, that he was a Malfoy and Malfoy's just did _not _care. But that wasn't true. He _did_care about what other people thought because he wasn't a Death Eater. Arrogant? Probably. Evil? No.

Draco and Theo reached the entrance to the classroom marked 3C just as the bell rang, stepping quickly over the threshold as the heavy wooden doors magically slammed shut with an echoing bang. Everyone looked around at the noise and stared at them, but Draco was searching for the source of the spell and found it, or _him_, standing at the front of the room behind the desk.

The new D.A.D.A teacher was a middle-aged wizard with wiry grey hair. He didn't look like much in his simple black robes, but the way he held himself was rather more worrying. Pretentious. Self-righteous. _Dawlish. _Draco remembered him from McGonagall's speech.

When Theo and Draco took their seats at the back of the class, Draco didn't even have time to search for and then avoid Granger's eyes before their new professor began to speak.

"Professor John Dawlish, Auror." He didn't turn to write his name on the board. He simply stood there, stiff and unsmiling, glaring around at his students.

_Quite the grand welcoming, indeed, _thought Draco. He elbowed Theo and they both rolled their eyes.

"As all of you are well aware," Dawlish continued, "we're in the aftermath of the Second Wizarding War."

Draco inwardly groaned. He _knew_that this was going to happen. Of course everyone was "well aware" of this. It ended just four months prior. There were reminders everywhere. Everyone was still mourning, and it was sick that this man would waltz in here and talk about the subject so blatantly.

But Dawlish carried on, though his students shifted uncomfortably before him. He must know how unpopular a lecture like this would be, but his eyes were hardened and his jaw was set. Draco tried to prepare himself for the awfulness of the next hour.

"These have been dark times," Dawlish said, "times when I hope we have all come to know the importance of Defense against the Dark Arts. I know many of you fought in the battle here on the grounds. Your time here at school, in this classroom, helped you survive that terrible night..."

Draco's eyes slid out of focus as he remembered the chaos, the rumble caving in, the fire in the Room of Hidden Things, his struggle to find his parents, to avoid curses and creatures as he ran through the castle and grounds. He remembered the body he'd tripped over, the boy with the camera who was always following Potter around. It was a terrible night. Not the worst of his life, but still bloody, still a blur of fear and pain.

"... But life goes on, and here you are again to learn Defense. It is my sincere hope that you will never have to use what I will teach you in this classroom. Today, however, the lesson will not be a practical one. Today, we will remember our past so that we may forge ahead with open eyes."

_What was that supposed to mean?_

"Many families were torn apart by Lord Voldemort's—" There was a little communal gasp at the sound of the name, as always, but Dawlish ignored it. "— reign of terror, among them the Longbottoms," and Dawlish nodded over at Longbottom, seated next to Granger, "the Weasleys, the Bones, the Scrimgeours, the Potters. Yes, many families who fought on the side of good were punished for their convictions." Dawlish paused there, letting the weight of the words sink in. "But there were two distinct sides to this war. The good, those I mentioned who stood beside many more to fight the dark, the Death Eaters and Lord Voldemort." Another collective cringe.

Dawlish paused again, his eyes searching the room full of students. Once his found Draco's they locked on. Draco quickly jerked his gaze from Dawlish. His hand moved to cover his left arm where under the material of his robe his own Dark Mark still scarred the flesh of his forearm. His heart beat frantically against his ribs.

"Ignorant fools, Death Eaters. Fighting a war against Muggle-borns, yet, did they know, did they stop to think that the man they followed, their leader, was of _impure_blood? No. Pathetic, all of them. Killing hundreds of innocent people for what gain? Nothing. Just the twisted pleasure of killing."

Draco could feel Dawlish's gaze boring into him, hear the passion and disgust in his voice. And he could feel other eyes now as well, flickering back to glance at him and Theo occasionally. But he didn't return the glare as he normally would. He couldn't face them and their judgement. Not about this. Theo, who's father had died a Death Eater in the Battle of Hogwarts, could not truly feel the sting of this moment, of these words and glares. He did not have the Mark. He was guilty only by association. Draco, however, bore the full weight of responsibility the Mark carried.

And suddenly, he knew what was coming.

"Draco Malfoy, stand up." It was Dawlish. His penetrating eyes ground into Draco's, and every student in the classroom turned to face him.

Draco didn't move. He felt his face blush bright red, felt anger crash against his chest like flood water against a dam. It was only a matter of time before it broke, before he broke.

Dawlish spoke again, this time in barely a whisper. "Stand up, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco did not stand. He would not submit himself to such indecencies. Dawlish seemed to sense Draco's defiance. He started forward, swerving through the desks with hatred twisting his face. Then Dawlish was upon him, shoving Theo out of the way and dragging Draco roughly to his feet. He urged him forward, back toward the front of the room, lugging him by the neck of his robes. When they arrived, all eyes fixed to Draco. Every face was an accusation, a mask of fright or fury. These were no longer his classmates; they were a jury eager to condemn him.

But Draco's eyes sought Granger. She alone stared down at her notes. Her face had drained of colour and her hand was fisted around her quill.

Dawlish let him go abruptly, and Draco stumbled into a desk. The Ravenclaw girl there slid backward in her seat and nearly fell. "Mr. Malfoy here is a Death Eater, aren't you? Stand up straight, boy. I have some questions for you."

This was unbearable, inhuman. How could Dawlish do this? How could he get away with treating Draco like this?

It didn't matter. This was happening. Now. And Draco _had_to bear it. This was the price of returning to Hogwarts. On top of everything else, this must also be born. He straightened, his eyes focused on Granger's downturned face. It made him calmer, he supposed, to know that at least Granger wasn't gleeful at his mortification. Or maybe she just didn't want to look at him. Did she hate him so much, _this _much?

"Very good at taking orders, aren't you, Mr. Malfoy. That's better," said Dawlish venomously. Draco didn't look at him, but he could hear the smile in his voice. "Draco Malfoy, as I said, is a Death Eater. I say 'is' because once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater. Am I right, boy?"

Draco said nothing. He watched Granger set down her quill. Her hand disappeared below her desk.

Dawlish didn't seem to require any reply. After all, everyone in the room knew what he said was true. "Mr. Malfoy," he continued, "I wonder if you could tell us why exactly a sixteen-year-old boy was recruited into your Death Eater ranks? Could it be because your Lord required a service of the Malfoy family that your pitiful father and your wretched mother could not perform? Could it be that he wanted to punish your family for its many, many failures by tasking you with the murder of Albus Dumbledore?"

The words washed over Draco like molten flame. Every inch of him buzzed with the agonizing effort of restraint. He wanted to kill Dawlish right here in front of everyone. He wanted to make him suffer. But Draco just kept staring at Granger. While he watched, Longbottom leaned over and whispered something into her ear. She ignored him.

"But you failed as well, didn't you, Mr. Malfoy? Your whole family are a bunch of evil, cowardly screw-ups. But still, you carried on, doing the bidding of your Lord all the way up until his defeat. Didn't you, Mr. Malfoy?" Dawlish crossed to Draco's other side behind him, and his voice was like the echo of a gong in Draco's ears.

"But I didn't bring you up here to innumerate your many inadequacies as a Death Eater, Draco Malfoy. I asked you to stand so that you could show us all the brand your Lord left on you, so that we would all know a Death Eater when we saw one in future." As the meaning of Dawlish's words made their way through the cracks in wall Draco had erected in his mind, the professor addressed the rest of the class. "There is one sure way to identify a Death Eater, class. The Dark Mark. Mr. Malfoy here is going to show us his."

"NO!" Granger was on her feet, chest heaving. "No! That is _enough_! We don't need to see—"

"But I say we _do_need to see it, Ms. Granger. Sit down." Dawlish turned his attention back to Draco. "Roll up your sleeve and show us all what a Dark Mark looks like, Mr. Malfoy. Do it now, or I will _make _you."

Draco did nothing. He didn't move or speak, he just stared into Granger's fearful brown eyes. Together, they looked down at the wand in her hand. Together, they watched her raise it, point it at Dawlish. "You don't have to do this, Malfoy. P-professor, p-please."

"Stay out of this, Granger," Draco growled, but Dawlish moved so fast that Draco didn't see quite what happened. Suddenly, Granger's wand was in the professor's hand, and she was struggling as if bound, forced back down to her seat. "Do not point your wand at a teacher, Ms. Granger. It is unbefitting of the Head Girl, and this boy is not worthy of your protection. Now, Mr. Malfoy, let's see your little brand, shall we? Roll up your sleeve."

Granger's eyes were wide with outrage, terror, shame... but Draco knew there was only one way all of this would end. He'd brought this on himself, and there was no escaping it.

Slowly, he lifted his hand to the cuff of his robes. His blood boiled with anger, his skin burned in aversion to the disgrace he was about to endure, but he made his mind focus on the only person in the room who had tried to stop this. Granger. And he hated her then, for the being the person he'd turned to, because in that moment he truly needed her. Her eyes were like beckons, drawing him away from this awful reality.

He forced his fingers not to shake as, little by little, they folded back the fabric to reveal the red scar of his Dark Mark. The scar that had squirmed and rippled on his arm for two years lay quiet and harmless-looking now, its skull and snake mere red lines carved through the pale white of his skin. He showed them all, displayed it to the class, and they stared at it as one. Even Granger glanced down to see.

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy," said Dawlish, malicious relish in his voice. "You may take your seat." But Draco did not sit down. He wound his way to the back of the class, grabbed his bookbag from the desk next to Theo's, and stormed from the room without a backward glance.

* * *

><p>Hermione rounded the corner of the corridor that led to the Heads' dormitory, hoping to use the free period between Double D.A.D.A. and lunch to find Malfoy and... talk him down or something. What Dawlish had done to Draco was sick, completely unwarranted and unprofessional. No matter what Draco was guilty of in his past, he did not deserve to be humiliated in front of his peers. What could Dawlish have been thinking?<p>

Hermione heard him before she saw him, and slowed near the entrance to the hallway. He was standing in front of the portrait which concealed the Heads' dormitory, his hands on either side of the gilded frame, his nose an inch from the canvas.

"I don't bloody know, alright? There's no hint? None at all?"

The password. Her heart dropped into her stomach.

_Oh, Merlin. _She'd changed it last night when she'd been miffed at him, and he'd been locked out of their dormitory for an hour because he couldn't guess it.

"'Hippogriff'! I don't know... 'Chair'! 'Fucking Mudblood'! Come on, _let me in_, you preening little harpy!"

Hermione's back hit the wall, flush against the smooth, cool stone, her ears full of the sound of Malfoy's echoing shouts. She prayed he hadn't seen her. She wanted to turn back, to run away to the Library or the Gryffindor common room and hide from this newest hardship of which she was the sole cause. On top of everything, she had locked him out of their common room.

"No," said the portrait girl, her voice small, piteous even.

"Sod it! Merlin, just sod it all then!"

Flesh pounding against stone, then a scuffing noise, like feet scraping against the ground. Hermione chanced a look down the corridor. There he was, sitting yards away from her with his elbows on his knees across the hall from the portrait of the beautiful girl. His sleeve was still rolled up to the crook of his arm, and he seemed to stare in morbid contemplation of the Dark Mark clearly visible on his forearm. As she watched, he leaned his head back against the stone wall, and she thought she saw a wet shine on his cheeks catch the light of the torches in the corridor. It was quiet for a moment, then, very suddenly, he sneezed.

And it was such a _normal_thing in such a surreal situation that Hermione actually said, "bless you."

Draco turned to her in alarm, hurriedly swiping his robes over his face, and tugged his sleeve over his left arm. He scrambled to his feet as she hurried toward him. "Hey, wait!" Hermione called, approaching on tenterhooks, wary yet reaching out to him. "Why aren't you inside?"

Draco rounded on her, and he was huge in anger, the fury in his grey eyes crushing. But the wild madness in him seemed to deflate again, all at once, as if the sight of her cowering in his presence brought him as much pain now as it normally would have brought satisfaction. When he replied, it was in a hollow tone, devoid of any emotion at all. "I couldn't guess the password. And there was no hint."

He sounded so empty, so drained, but he couldn't hide the note of accusation. _She_ had done this to him, and now she'd have to say it out loud, and it would be sure to upset him, and he certainly didn't need any more stress in his life what with everything else going on...

"It's '_Muggleborn'_," she said in a voice barely above a whisper. She looked at Draco, waited for him to explode, but it was as if this was the final nail in his coffin. He gave no sign he'd even heard her. The portrait swung open and Hermione followed him inside.

She watched him cross the common room, walking resignedly toward the staircase that led to his bedroom.

_How must he be feeling right now?_ Her heart broke for him. He looked so _tired_. Hermione felt an overwhelming urge to comfort him. She felt horrible just thinking about it. _Empathy. _She was feeling empathetic toward Draco Malfoy. But she didn't know what to say.

"Draco," she said just as he mounted the first step. He hesitated for a moment, and she didn't think he was actually going to turn around. It didn't look like he wanted to, either. But finally, slowly, his head tilted just slightly in her direction. The look in his eyes actually stung her. In that instant, she realized that she didn't know what to say because there _was_nothing to say.

Hermione had heard it all before. Everyone always said that it was "okay" and they were "sorry" when it was _not _and they _weren't_, or they were but they could never truly comprehend the brevity of the situation.

_We've lived through more grief before we were twenty than most people experience in a lifetime. How could _anyone_ ever understand?_

But Hermione was more practical. "It will be alright," she told him, surprised by how true the words felt. It wasn't fine now, but it _will _be. She was talking about more than just the lesson. They both knew she meant everything. Everything wasn't alright yet, but it _would _be. Because it _had_ to be. She would make sure of it.

He looked at her for a few long moments, his face illuminated by the dancing flame in the common room fireplace. Then he nodded once, turned, and headed up to his room, closing the door softly behind him.


	7. PLOT OUTLINE 2 FULL YEARS LATER

This story was going places... it was going to destroy you emotionally, but it was going places! I just recently noticed this **_fourteen page_**plot outline was in my google docs and after two full years of leaving this as a WIP, I decided what the hell. Some people are still subscribed to this story and might find this interesting! (tldr; major character death because I was 17 and angsty when I started writing this)

* * *

><p><strong>Table of Contents<strong>

Safe and Sound: Main Timeline

In which Stephanie adds to the outline when she shouldn't because I always fuck this shit up

In which we ramble on a bit about Andromeda's plotline

In which Stephanie explains Hermione's utter isolation at Hogwarts

In which Stephanie attempts to explain the finer points of Hogsmeade and Draco as a Veela

In which we ponder the Astoria Misdirect

In which we learn about the Veela

In which we suffer through organizing Prefects

In which we talk about Quidditch

In which we elaborate on a party for the Slug Club

The Author's Note

The Summary

Current Themes

Chapter Titles

**Safe and Sound: Main Timeline**

_23 - 30 chapters total; around 69,000 - 150,000 words_

**Magically Sun, Aug 31, 1998 **

**Chapter 1**

**Andromeda tells the reader about the prophecy; she vows to put a stop to it**

**Morning, Hogwarts Express**

**Hermione sits alone in a compartment, thinking about her new appointment as Head Girl and the friends she left behind**

**Draco hangs out with his friends in a compartment, but feels inexplicably angry and detached**

**Evening, Great Hall**

**Hermione ignores most of the Sorting and McGongall's speech scene**

**Evening, Outside of the Gryffindor common room**

**Hermione explains the password to first years**

**Evening, Heads' common room**

**Hermione and Draco have a stare-down in the common room; Hermione notices that he's pale, greyish, and gaunt; Draco makes a quick exit after feeling guilty for Hermione's torture the previous spring**

**Chapter 2**

**Andromeda watches the child sleep **

**Late night, Heads' dormitory**

**Draco hears Hermione screaming in the night and comes to her rescue**

**Magically Mon, Sept 1, 1998 **

**Before classes begin, Heads' dormitory**

**There's a tense moment between Draco and Hermione; Draco acts sporadically and seems to physically threaten Hermione**

**Chapter 3**

**Andromeda gives the reader some more information about the origin of the prophecy; she holds the child as he sleeps**

**Morning, Potions**

**Foreshadow the ****poison****: **_**Ladykiller**_**; kills over a period of hours; the drinker simply goes to sleep and never wakes up**

**The Potions lesson for the day is **_**Weedosoros**_**; IT REFLECTS THEIR SOULS**

**Draco's brewing his potion with Theo; Hermione is working with Neville**

**Draco gets mad because Neville is touching Hermione**

**Draco attempts to kill Neville with a knife, but blacks out before he can reach him**

**Chapter 4**

**We find out that Andromeda is stalking SOMEONE (not clear who)**

**Hint that she knows who one person in the prophecy is for sure**

**Andromeda watches Lucius specifically for cues about what's going on**

**Early evening, Hospital Wing**

**Draco wakes up in the care of Madam Pomfrey, who has him drink a Calming Draught and eat dinner; Draco remembers the events of that morning in Potions and questions his sanity**

**Draco's parents visit him and tell him he's a Veela; that explains things**

**Early evening, Gryffindor common room **

**Hermione hangs out with her fellow Gryffindors; they discuss Malfoy**

**Chapter 5**

**Evening, Library**

**Draco arrives just as it's closing and stocks up on books about Veela**

**Astoria is there**

**Late evening, Head's common room**

**Draco is stopped at the portrait; Hermione has changed the password; he guessed "Godric Gryffindor" and changes it to "Salazar Slytherin"**

**Draco does research on Veela; he falls asleep, leaving all his notes and books open**

**Late night, Head's common room**

**Hermione is stopped at the portrait; Draco has changed the password; she guesses "Salazar Slytherin" and changes it to "Muggleborn"**

**Hermione enters in the Heads' dormitory and spies on Draco's research**

**Magically Tues, Sept 2, 1998 **

**Chapter 6**

**Andromeda kills a married couple who fit the profile of Part-Veela Wizard and Muggleborn Witch**

**Morning, Heads' dormitory**

**Hermione wants to help Draco find his mate; Draco flat-out denies Hermione's help**

**Morning, D.A.D.A. classroom**

**Class lesson is on the Dark Mark**

**John Dawlish is the new D.A.D.A. professor; he has a vendetta against Death Eaters since they infiltrated the Ministry last year**

**Dawlish pressures Draco into showing the class his Dark Mark**

**Hermione tries to stop it; Draco shows the class his Dark Mark**

**Late morning, Heads' dormitory**

**Draco returns to the Heads' dormitory and finds that the password has been changed; he has **_**a lot**_ **of trouble guessing it, until, finally, Hermione shows up and reluctantly gives the password: "Muggleborn". What could possibly make him feel worse? That.**

**After this, Hermione and Draco always leave hints**

Magically wed, Sept 3, 1998

Chapter 7

Andromeda finds out about Hermione being Head Girl and Draco being Head Boy from an article in the _Daily Prophet_

**Morning, Great Hall**

**Show more about Hermione being isolated from everyone**

**Hermione reads an article featuring her as Head Girl in the **_**Daily Prophet**_**; add a lesser headline about the Dept of Magical Law Enforcement finding a married couple dead in their home where the suspected culprit is a crazed knife-wielding Muggle**

Hermione stops McGonagall outside of the Great Hall and tries to tell her about Dawlish's behavior in D.A.D.A. the day before

Draco catches up to them and tells McGonagall that it is okay, that he wants to help people understand Death Eaters; McGonagall agrees to let Dawlish stand and let Draco deal with that situation himself if Draco doesn't skip D.A.D.A; she commends Draco for not going all HULK SMASH on Dawlish given his Veela...ness

Afternoon, D.A.D.A. classroom

Draco faces Dawlish again; Dawlish ignores him

Dawlish discusses Death Eaters again and other organizations devoted to the Dark Arts throughout history; Dawlish explains that this is a common occurrence

Magically Sun, Sept 7, 1998

Evening, 8pm, Great Hall

First Prefect meeting

Draco can hardly pay attention; Astoria catches his eye

Evening, after the Prefect meeting, Empty corridor and Heads' dormitory

Draco and Hermione have a conversation after the meeting; Draco agrees to allow Hermione to help him find his Mate

Draco thinks of himself as a hypocrite for abusing Hagrid for his Half-Breed status; he regrets his bullying days

Magically Mon, Sept 8, 1998

Chapter 8

Andromeda beats herself up for leaving the child unattended, but decides there is no other way to ensure his future safety

Afternoon, Charms

?

Evening, Dark corridor, Patrols

First time Draco and Hermione have an legitimate discussion about the Veela thing, what to do about it

Astoria overhears this; they catch her spying, but she plays dumb (Who is Astoria patrolling with?)

Magically Fri, Sept 12, 1998

Chapter 9

Afternoon, Potions

Draco and Hermione get asked to be in the Slug Club

The class is making the Morpheum Drought

Mysterious black liquid, which gives the drinker strange visions

Hermione and Draco allow Slughorn to collect them into the Slug Club

They choose Astoria to go after as a potential Mate

Magically Fri, Sept 19, 1998

Chapter 10

Hermione's 19th birthday

Evening, Gryffindor common room

Her House has a party for her

Neville makes another attempt to talk to Hermione; Luna is also present

Late evening, Heads' common room

Hermione returns to the Heads' dormitory exhausted; Draco unexpectedly wishes her happy birthday

Magically Sat, Sept 20th, 1998

Chapter 11

Morning, Paddock hear Hagrid's hut

Altercation between Ginny (GQC) and Draco over tryout times

Early afternoon, Paddock hear Hagrid's hut

Quidditch Tryouts are held in the paddock near Hagrid's Hut because the Quidditch Pitch is still undergoing renovations; tryouts are very taxing for Draco

List the Slytherin Quidditch Team

Late afternoon, Corridor outside of Heads' dormitory

When Draco gets back to the common room, the password is changed; he also changes it

Late afternoon, Heads' dormitory

Draco and Hermione do homework together

Tues, Sept 29th, 1998

Chapter 12

Morning, D.A.D.A. classroom

Dawlish has a class on homemade dark curses; Draco inwardly corrects Dawlish on a lot of points then decides he needs to help him

Draco talks to Dawlish after class about being useful to him; Draco says he wants to use his knowledge of Death Eater curses and their inner workings to help out in D.A.D.A.; Dawlish is impressed and agrees

Early evening, Paddock near Hagrid's hut

Quidditch practice

Thurs, Oct 1st, 1998

Mention the wretched cat; Draco and Hermione bicker over Crookshanks

Hermione and Draco talk about Dawlish while they do homework; this discussion ends in a yelling match about Hermione's capture and torture

Late evening, Hermione's bedroom

Draco comforts Hermione during her nightmares; he briefly falls asleep with her and wakes up in a panic; it's getting harder to touch her

Sat, Oct 3rd, 1998

Chapter 13

Draco and Dawlish have a meeting

Draco and Hermione are being cool toward each other, but have basically made up from their fight

Draco and Astoria do Patrols together

Astoria talks about how her life has changed after Voldemort's downfall; Draco reciprocates

Astoria mentions Draco and Dawlish working together

Astoria and Draco talk about Hermione as Head Girl

Thurs, Oct 8th, 1998

Big class project in Herbology

The herb in question happens to be an ingredient in _Ladykiller_; mentioned only as an ingredient in "many slow-working poisons"

Draco is paired with Theo and Hermione with Neville; Draco and Hermione end up grudgingly helping each other

Draco and Hermione talk about her torture again; this time, they resolve their shit

Mon, Oct 12th, 1998

Chapter 14

Morning, Charms classroom

Patronuses; Draco has trouble with this; Hermione offers her help; he initially declines

Herbology project-related shenanigans

More Astoria in the Library

Fri, Oct 16th, 1998

Chapter 15

Slug Club meeting

Luna

Herbology project-related shenanigans ; Hermione comes back to the Heads' dormitory after Slug Club to find her plant thing wilting; Draco helps her

Sat, Oct 17th, 1998

Late evening, Heads' dormitory

Draco practices his Patronus while Hermione spies; he finally gets it right, but his happy memory confuses him

Phoenix like Dumbledore

Wed, Oct 21st, 1998

Chapter 16

Evening, Paddock near Hagrid's hut

Quidditch practice

Evening, Outside of Heads' dormitory

Password change

Evening, Heads' dormitory

Draco takes a shower because why not

Hermione tells Draco about S.P.E.W. while they do homework together for History of Magic (some subject relating to House Elves)

Mon, Oct 26th, 1998

Chapter 17

Herbology project turned in

Draco's situation with his Veela status is getting desperate; he's getting more bipolar by the day

Hermione helps Draco by brewing him a simple potion for his nerves

Fri, Oct 30, 1998

Late evening, Hermione's bedroom

Draco comforts Hermione during her nightmares by singing the DILLY DILLY SONG; he experiences FEELINGS when he touches her, but he can still do it; he returns to his bedroom feeling... weird

Sat, Oct 31, 1998

Chapter 18

Morning, Great Hall

BREAKFAST, Draco sits with Astoria; he decides he might like her

Afternoon, Hogsmeade

Andromeda goes on a field trip to Hogsmeade

Ron and Hermione break up

Ron is one of the sunglasses-inside-wearing douchebags who rolls his own cigarettes; Madam Rosmerta tells him he can't smoke in the Three Broomsticks; Ron has shopping bags and Hermione thinks he may have bought her something, but turns out no

Hermione yells at him and leaves in a huff

Astoria's date with Draco goes south because Draco up and leaves to comfort Hermione

Astoria gets imperius-ed after her date

Chapter 19

Andromeda remembers being in the Three Broomsticks, spying on Draco; she sees Draco and Hermione together; imperiuses Astoria

Evening, Slughorn's Office

Slug Club Party

It is established that both Muggle and Wizarding music is played at the party

Harry and Ron are there

Draco and Astoria dance together; they kiss; it doesn't work out well; Hermione realizes that she is jealous

Harry and Hermione dance together

Hermione and Draco dance together (to Jeff Buckley's "Hallelujah")

Sun, Nov 1, 1998

Chapter 20

Evening, 8pm, Great Hall

Weekly Patrol Meeting

Evening, Corridors/Heads' dormitory

After the meeting, Draco and Hermione talk about Astoria on their way back to their dormitory, which carries over into a fight in their common room

Draco visits Hermione again in her bedroom while she has nightmares; he feels a magnetism toward her that he can't explain; he can't touch her at this point; she wakes up and catches him in her room AT NIGHT WTF and accuses him of being inappropriate; their fight continues

Mon, Nov 2, 1998

Chapter 21

Evening, Corridors

Patrols

Hermione and Draco are still fighting; they split up

Draco goes with Pansy or someone and Hermione and Ginny fight as well about Draco

Late evening, Heads' dormitory

Draco and Hermione make up; there's a tense moment where they might kiss, but it doesn't happen

Wed, Nov 18th, 1998

Chapter 22

Afternoon, Arithmancy classroom

During class, Hermione admits to herself that she's feeling less hostile toward Draco; she admits that her feelings might be more than friendship

Afternoon, D.A.D.A. classroom

Draco and Dawlish are civil; they work together on some demonstration about curses taught to Death Eaters

Sat, Nov 28th, 1998

Chapter 23

Briefly sum up the week prior, which is just more of the same

Hermione talks to Harry; FRIENDSHIP; Harry mentions some weird killings that he thinks may be connected

Briefly sum up the week before the 5th of Dec, more of the same; lots of homework; Quidditch shenanigans

Sat, Dec 5th, 1998

Chapter 24

Morning, Great Hall

Hermione is afraid for Draco; she thinks quidditch is dangerous and he could get hurt

Draco is also afraid for himself because he's feeling woozy

Astoria expresses concern for Draco at the Slytherin table

Morning, Quidditch Pitch

It is windless out on the pitch ("Their song takes effect at midday, in a windless calm. The end of that song is death.")

Draco faints on his broom

Evening, Hospital Wing

True Kiss

Sun, Dec 6th, 1998

Chapter 25

OMFG TRUE KISSNESS

BE LOVEY DOVEY FOR A CHAPTER OK

At some point, Draco is forced to resign his Team Captaincy

Sat, Dec 12th, 1998

Chapter 26

Andromeda gives Narcissa a cursed object

Afternoon, Hogsmeade

Andromeda gives Astoria the poison

Draco purchases a gift for Hermione; it's a promise ring

Draco meets with his parents under supervision in Hogsmeade; they are about to go on trial in January; he tells them about Hermione; they are not pleased

Malfoy parents go to St. Mungo's because of the cursed object

Early evening, Heads' dormitory

Hermione finds out from Draco about his parents and is distraught; Draco packs some clothes and leaves for St. Mungo's

Chapter 27

Evening, St. Mungo's

Draco visits with his sick mother and worried father

Late evening, Heads' dormitory

Hermione misses the fuck out of Draco

Sun, Dec 13th, 1998

Hermione tells her friends about Draco and their NEW LOVE

They are not pleased

Hermione misses the fuck out of Draco

Astoria comforts Hermione

Mon, Dec 14th, 1998

Early morning, Heads' dormitory

Draco returns from St. Mungo's

Hermione tells Draco how Astoria comforted her while he was gone and about her friends' anger about their relationship

Sat, Dec 19th, 1998

Chapter 28

Morning

Astoria gives Hermione the poison, thinking it's an aphrodisiac, and tells her that she wants Hermione and Draco to be happy together; she gives them her blessing

Thurs, Dec 24th, 1998

Chapter 29

Evening, Malfoy Manor

Draco proposes; he can't wait until Christmas Day

Hermione drinks the poison, thinking it's the aphrodisiac, thinking they're going to CONSUMMATE THEIR LOVE

Hermione and Draco are ambushed by Andromeda at Malfoy Manor

Hermione and Draco die (_feels_)

Last line of the fic, from Andromeda: "There there, Teddy. Shh, my darling, don't cry. You're safe now. Safe and sound."

LETTERS

**In which Stephanie adds to the outline when she shouldn't because I always fuck this shit up**

**Password Ideas**

Hermione:

Triwizard Tournament

Draco:

Favorite Sweets

Magical Creature

Something to do with Wizarding History

A friend or family member's name

**In which we ramble on a bit about Andromeda's plotline**

Andromeda hears a prophecy while at Hogwarts, which she went to with Trelawney involving Draco and Hermione's child ~obviously she doesn't know that yet duh~

Narcissa and Lucius get married, she's his mate - Andromeda finds that out because it was before she was disowned or s/t

After the war she thinks more about the prophecy and that it could pertain to Draco

Why?

She thinks of the prophecy and analyzes key phrases and how it ~could be~ Draco "_hearts are bound" "Sired from the song of one rarest man" _So she's like what bound hmm that could mean Veela coincidence i think not

Wants to kill the child in the prophecy because Teddy

Kills Hermione with poison

Suspicions, in her mind, confirmed as she hears about Hermione being Dracos mate somehow hmmmm how could that happen hmm questions?

Maybe she could know that Hermione is Head Girl (in the papers?) and could realize that their proximity could be bad for business, so to speak

She could realize that Hermione is "a birth of fallow blood". It fits. That's worrisome.

So, she finds out about the prophecy one day by fluke. She was around Trelawney in the hall and she made the prediction. Andromeda didn't think anything of it for a long time. The first time she thought of it at all was when she found out through Narcissa that Lucius was a Veela and was his mate. The prophecy wiggled it's way back to her thoughts because of the line "Sired from the song of one rarest man" as Narcissa mentioned that male Veela were exceedingly rare. So, at that time she started thinking more about what it could mean, analyzing the words more carefully catching words like "bound" which made her almost confirm her suspicions that in meant a Veela. She went to the next line "birth of fallow blood" which to her was easy to decipher, it meant a muggle born. The child of a male Veela and a muggle-born. More and more worried she got as Voldemort rose power the second time, spreading more terror than the first. When she was made aware that her husband and daughter and son-in-law were all dead, she snapped. The prophecy was the only thing on her mind, always. She tried to find records of all known Male Veelas that were alive right now and came up with a very short list of 2 people. So unless Lucius had a child with a muggle-born which was so unlikely she had jumped right over that that though it only left Draco. Since he was of age, he was coming into his Veela blood and would be finding a mate, soon. This was very bad and she needed to stop it, for Teddy. He was all she had. She would get an informant at Hogwarts(via owl post) to give her news to see if he had found his mate yet, if so, she would make a plan and strike.

**In which Stephanie explains Hermione's utter isolation at Hogwarts**

Ron and Harry don't come back to Hogwarts for their eighth year, Harry goes to Auror training and Ron's off being famous. so Hermione's like wow you guys suck wtf. She isn't close with Ginny or Luna or Neville, etc. - doesn't feel the connection with those guys because she isn't with Harry and Ron - She pushes them away and shit. She feels very alone - and she hates it. uhm ya

**In which Stephanie attempts to explain the finer points of Hogsmeade and Draco as a Veela**

Ron and Hermione are together man, up until the first Hogsmeade weekend (October 31st 1998 apparently that's a saturday) this is Draco's first date with Astoria ya ok three broomsticks Hermione and Ron are there too (convenient) and ron's like ok no this is not okay i don't want to be with you (he's probably fucking some chick because he's an asshole) there's reporters all around because holla they're famous and they all are writing this shit down and hermione's like wow i h8 u (tears) kill yourself kbye and then storms out like a mother f***er (what's a swear word i'm a nun) and starts heading toward the Castle (maybe idk maybe she just goes into an alley and leans against a wall idk) ***malfoypov Draco follows her and Astoria is like ok no ty but Draco don't give no fucks and goes to Hermione and comforts her, or his sassy version of it like insulting Ron and shiznits.

Draco is a Veela and he doesn't take it well - His parents come (thx casey luv ya) to Hogwarts with their Lawyer and an Auror (McGonagall follows in too because shit don't go down at Hogwarts without her), Draco is in the infirmary at this point so let's make him stay there. Lucius and Narcissa kick everyone out any they're like ok man and they tell Draco this he's all like wtf no I'm a pureblood (hahah wrong). His parents can't stay long because you know, house arrest for the time being tingz so they leave and he checks out books about Veelas ~*~*~*I have titles in like, my chapter 4*~*~*~* He brings them back to his room to read about them, but falls asleep (coincidence, i think not) Hermione waltzes in from doing rounds or s/t and she's like what and reads the books too. Let's make her do me things right now and analyze the shit out of Draco's life so that she wants to help him for example: an in depth look into how he was forced into his life, that his personality and everything, especially the things with the war (like trying to kill dumbledore) was all to do with other peoples she's like hmm. he's still sassy and everything but not evil.

La da da; she wants to help him find his mate because reasons above and he's like no fu and she's like no i am. Misdirect ~ ASTORIA

**In which we ponder the Astoria Misdirect**

How to misdirect:

Astoria is all up on Draco's shit, shes like hey man put it in but every time she's around Hermione's there so the Veela part of him is all like I enjoy these feels so Draco thinks that Astoria is his mate

I don't really know how to build up their relationship given the restrictions I have already set for myself in chapter 4 concerning mate ~selection~ or whatever

Plot twist he was wrong though it was hermione bam

**In which we learn about the Veela**

Here's what I have already published about Veelas so

(((Hermione read straight from the book

_Characteristics of Magical Wizarding Veela's: _

_Worse still, the feelings get the more intense the more they're around their mate without having solidified the bond_

_A Veela will know for sure of it's intended after kissing them (the True Kiss). (They may be pushed into doing so by extreme urges of doing just that)_

_Although a Veela may have urges to kiss others during the mate-less time (called the Longing) if the witch, wizard or muggle has a personality or looks similar to its intended_

_If the Veela does not find its mate during the Longing, which is anywhere from 6 months to 3 years depending on the circumstances, the Veela will die _

_Veelas have venom that is transferred to their mate via the True Kiss. Only the true mate will be affected by the venom_

_After the True Kiss, if the Veela dies, their mate will die_

_After the True Kiss, if the mate dies, the Veela will die_

_A Veela will love and protect their mate at all costs (these feelings may be prominent even before the True Kiss)_

_Draco has a greyish complexion prior to the True Kiss that Hermione attributes to war-weariness._

_When Draco and Hermione share the True Kiss, they GLOW (but not gayly) _

**In which we suffer through organizing Prefects**

Prefects

Pansy

Astoria

Ginny

Neville

Susan Bones

Ernie Macmillian

Hermione

Draco

22 Prefects + 2 Heads = 24 Patrolees (yay math)

On any given night there are two pairs of Prefects patrolling the corridors including the Heads. Except Sundays

Prefects can take away House points/Give Detentions

Mandatory weekly meeting for the Prefects including Draco, Hermione, the Heads of Houses, and the Headmistress in the Great Hall on Sunday evenings at 8pm

**In which we talk about Quidditch**

Quidditch

Draco is a Seeker in the Quidditch Team

He's the Slytherin Quidditch Team captain

We never see him play because he falls off his broom during one of his girly fainting spells and has to resign as Team Captain for the time being (THEN HE DIES)

**In which we elaborate on a party for the Slug Club**

Slug Club

There's a scene where: ok so like sassy Hermione and Draco i'm using my inner eye for this shit I can see them like leaning against a wall and looking out at all da peeps and Hermiones is like ok man, what about *insert name here* he like looks at her ~*~*disbelievingly*~*~*~* and he's like uhm ok no what hermione's like omfg ok and REPEAT (he keeps saying no hahaha plot twist) WHAT I SEE IS LIKE FROM HALF-BLOOD PRINCE THAT PARTY

Neville tries to get Hermione's attention and fails

Harry and Ron are there

Ghosts

Rita Skeeter

**The Author's Note**

**A/N **

**Hello, everyone! I'm writing this for anyone who's already read the first five chapters to tell them that I now have a beta and we are currently rewriting the entire story thus far. **

**I strongly encourage you to read from the beginning or you will not understand the plot. Trust me.**

**Thanks (and don't forget to review)!**

**The Summary**

**Summary**

**Draco and Hermione return amid fame and infamy for their final year at Hogwarts. When Draco's world is turned upside down by a secret family inheritance, he and Hermione must redefine the meaning of safe and sound. **

**Current Themes **

**Themes**

**The Greater Good| Safe and Sound| Love Conquering Prejudice | Acceptance **

**Chapter Titles**

**25 Possible Chapter Titles (from "Safe and Sound" by Taylor Swift)**

I Remember | Tears Streaming | Your Face | Never Let You Go | All Those Shadows | **Kill Your Light (1)** | Don't Leave Me | **Here Alone (5)** | Dead And Gone | Passed Tonight | Close Your Eyes | **Sun Going Down (4)** | Be Alright | **Hurt You Now (6)**| **Come Morning Light (2)** | You and I | Safe and Sound | **Don't You Dare (3)** | Look Out Darling | Everything's on Fire | The War Outside | Raging On | Hold On | This Lullaby | The Music's Gone

**15 Possible Chapter Titles (from "Hallelujah" by Jeff Buckley)**

Secret Chord | Don't Really Care | Minor Fall | Hallelujah | Your Faith | Beauty and the Moonlight | Broken Throne | From Your Lips | Been Here Before | Victory March | Cold and Broken | Every Breath We Drew | All I Learned | Cry at Night | See the Light


End file.
